Aj*G TBE-EDGE OF TOMORROW A Star Original She felt his presence through her tiredness and opened her eyes with a start. Tle man stood two paces from her, body poised to move closer. He was stocky, legs bowed against the ship's motion, hot-eyed, unshaven. She looked at him, feeling the Power well up m her and pour out over hun, enlarging the pupils of her eyes so that they expanded into great black pools, fathomless - still. The sailor checked. He hung frozen with one foot in front of the other, unable to drop his gaze before the immensity of the lummous pools which pinned the very breath in his chest. He whimpered, a small animal sound in his chest - and the girl closed her eyes again ... leaving him trem- bling, heart thudding with ffight in his barrel chest, to back away and turn and run. She hadn't moved a muscle except for her eyelids, yet the whole of him was filled with an aDvalline fear of her. - - A Star Book Published in 1979 by the Paperback Division of W. H. Allen & Co. Ltd A Howard and Wyndham Company 44 HW Street, London WiX 8LB Copyright ~) D. G. Finlay, 1979 Printed in Great Britain by Hunt Barnard Printing Ltd, AylesbuM Bucks ISBN 0 352 30407 3 For Nicky, Sally and Guy This book is sold subject to the condition that it shal] not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser "If no devils, no God . . .' (The Trialls of Maist. Dorrell 11597D i AUTHOR'S NOTE This story is a work of fiction woven into a factual part of the English and American Heritage. It relates in as fine a detail as a non-scholar has been able to research, the events which led to the colonists of New Plymouth, Massachusetts, becoming the cornerstone of the foundations upon which the United States of America were to be built. The vital ingredient which has separated the Mayflower Settlers from their predecessors and their successors was the simple Faith and dogged determination with which they approached their many prob- lems. It was this Faith and the basic goodness and discipline of their leaders which forged the strength of their system and enabled them to go out and assist in the founding of later communities further afield. In order to get a closer look at the events of this period and to highlight the basic differences between the religious and mythological beliefs of the Europeans and North American Indians, I have superimposed a handful of fictitious characters upon the tapestry of known history. In this way, one may better explore the possible reactions of the two civilisations upon each other; from the subject of their ritual beliefs through to the very treatment ofthe Earth which was to sustain them. To the best of my knowledge, I have only strayed from fact on two points. The two central figures, Becky Gardenar and Chapanuk, the Nauset Powwaw are fictitious though the Nauset people and their Satchern Aspinet are certainly fact as was Becky's husband, Richard Gardenar. I also caused the stockade to be built round the village a year before history claims. In all other aspects, I have done my best to record without embroidery, straight from related fact and apologise to any historian if inaccuracy has inadvertently crept in. Dione Finlay, Malta r978 Part One THE SEA CHAPTER ONE A chill wind tugged and buffeted the land. It tore at the leafles trees till their branches clasbed and shuddered and the sand o the dunes leapt in dervish whirls through the straggling scrut It enveloped the man, snatching at the loose strands th escaped his long, bound hair. He was near to old age an the lines on his face traced a pattern of pain and suffering o the wind-burned skin. I-Iis eyes, opaque with milky cataracts gazed sightlessly out across the churning bay and beyond th winter seas' shrouded horizon. The bad years, when deat! marked the tribe and whittled its numbers down to its presen few, seemed behind them at last. There had only been infan mortality recently and no fresh signs of the sweating sickness However, the damage was done. There were few elders lef among the Nauset except for himself and Mother Pettanuk an the situation was much the same among his neighbours an the rest of the Wampanoag and the Narragansett. He stood on the sandy hilltop, immobile in the icy wind Back straight, muscle and sinew straining beneath the cape beaver skin about his broad shoulders. Hunger had deprive him, sharpening the senses and his nostrils flared, absorbing medley of scents in the fractured air. The sharp tang of th restless ocean, pounding the contours of shore, eroding here creating there. Time, and the movement of ancient glacier had fashioned the curve of the great bay which was his hom raising from the floor of the sea, the curling claw of land upo which be stood. Kytan bad made it so, for Kytan was al powerful. The man sniffed the air. He smelt gorse, aromatic pine, thin thread of woodsmoke from his people's distant fires; threat of impending rain before the day died - the first sugges tion of later warmth. He felt with every nerve in his body th life stirring about him, the changing textures in the air. heard the sea battering the cliff beneath his feet and rusbin sighing up shallow beaches on either side; the screech and ca of bickering gulls over his head - and on the outermost ed 10 of his awareness there was another presence. He strove to reach it, shutting out the strident demands of the wind's clamour and stretching every strand of his mind towards the shadowy entity. There was movement there - and excitement. Its urgency quickened his own strong heart for a fleeting moment. It would become clearer when winter freshened and warmed into spring, but the coining would not be until the ageing of another year when the leaves fell once more and old bones chilled in the dying sun. The man stood like a rock, absorbing the wind's knowledge. There had been strangers in his, land before and they had brought eninity and death to his people. They had come in their great wooden ships from lands which lay far beyond the lip of the restless ocean and they were different in all things from his own kind. Their smell was strangely bland and their skin the colour of apple flesh, their hair loose and unkempt but of many textures and hues, sometimes pale as the sand or red like the leaves at the summer's dying. The strangers had come to trade with his people but with their fair words and fire water they had broright sickness in their bodies and given it to the women. They were gone now but there was still word of their presence elsewhere in the land, and the mighty sails of their ships sometimes broke the horizon's edge. The feeling that came to him from out there beyond the line where sea met sky had no smell of those white strangers, yet he knew that his senses would sharpen and that the amorphous shadows would one day contain them. He turned from the cliff and his feet felt the path which wound down through the sparse grasses away from the sea and along the spine of sand-blown peninsula, into the woods where the tribe had its winter quarters. The empty land lay beneath its chill shroud, hunched against the onslaught of winter. Across vast tracts of bill and valley, forest and lake, the air currents lifted earth's first stirrmig of life for another fruitful year - and the land lay fallow, waiting. Whorls of golden light shredded the blind depths as oblivion receded and awareness floated him upward towards the moment of waking. He floating, resisting the urge to open his eyes, leaning instead upon the sounds which filtered inward to identify themselves in his mind. The chuckle and slap of water i I against wood, the muted frenzy of white-breasted gulls, clatter of leather-shod feet over his head and the patter of weather hardened bare ones. The three previous awakenings had been accompanied by rattles and thumps as the final stores were manhandled down into the hold at the other end of the 'tween deck. This new day held a certain peace, broken only by the distant bellows of his kinsman, Captain Jones, as he roared his orders from high up on the poop and the crew scrambled to his bidding. Awareness of sound gave way to movement and he sensed the change in the ship's motion. They were no longer riding at anchor off the West Quay, a focus for speculation among the stevedores and loiterers along Southampton's waterfront. The ship moved beneath him with a deeper, forward surge - and he knew that they were under way. Richard Gardenar opened his eyes and squinted up at the three long splinters of daylight in the deckhead above him, then turned his head to peer at Becky, curled up peacefully by his side, a glimmer of pearl skin beneath the dark cobweb of ber hair. He turned from her carefully, needing the first moments of the day to himself. Pulling himself up and arranging the covers more closely about her, he stood up stretching, pulled his boots on, slipped through the sack curtain and followed the other stooping shadows up the hatch ladder and out on to the main deck. Daylight streamed through the open grating as he clam- bered up into the sharp bite of clean salted morning air. Most of the deck activity had moved aloft now and men scurried along the yards, securing the great sails as a brisk breeze caught and filled them in a thunder of flapping canvas and straining catharpins. He stood in the shadow of the longboat watching the old port slipping away in the early morning sunlight. 'Well, it begins. Farewell Southampton,' Stephen Hopkins murmured at his side. His voice was gruff, roughened by the moment of severance. Richard nodded without taking his eyes from the receding shore. 'God grant our passage is conducted with speed and safety,' be said quietly. The older man bowed his bead, furrows of tension creasing the contours of his worldly, humorous face. Shipwreck had ended his last voyage to Virginia. The memory was still etched in his mind. Others pressed about them in the fine early light, exclaiming at the swiftness of their dawn departure. Few had woken to I I the noisy rattle of the anchor chain though it still rumbled and t clattered on its winch in the heart of the ship. 'Hey, what's this then? Are we away and none the wiser?' John Billington's voice bellowed across the deck as he hauled i himself up over the hatch in the great cabin's outer cabin and joined the other passengers on deck. Richard groaned inwardly. Billington was already stamping his brand of noise and irri- tation upon the ship and now the women% last moments of rest would be disturbed. Everyone was on deck before the sun had broken through the fine haze that hung over the Solent Water. The great sea road lay between rolling hills, her milky blue surface ruffled and soothed by the wind's teasing fingers. The crowd pressed the ship's sides, the women hunched in their night wraps, their children clinging to their skirts. The older children darted excitedly from one vantage point to another, shrilling at each other like gulls over a crust, shying away from the moment of the adults' emotion. Ellen Billington's eyes filled with unshed tears as she watched the green surnmer bills withdrawing into the morning haze. It was her home and her life that they were so glibly rejecting - for a land of savages and hardship, so it was said. This had been Billington's decision. There was plenty of wealth to be found over in the New World if a man was prepared to work hard for it. She had not been consulted, but then, she never had been since the day they were wed. The movement of the ship began to unsettle her and she turned away, tucking the small hand of her younger son gently into her own. 'Come, Francis, let's break fast before John and your father beat us to the pottage bowl.' Becky Gardenar* had taken the time to arrange her hair and fit a cambric cap over her freshly clipped curls. It had been the last little service that Biddy had done for her, and they had both wept as lock after nut-brown lock fell from the remorseless shears. There would be enough problems coping with dirt and infestation during the voyage, Richard had in- structed, so that hair should be cut above the collar as he had done for himself. He had sounded regretful in his letter, as indeed he was, remembering the special beauty of the twins' radiant chestnut heads. Now the lustrous curls were hidden Biddy and Becky Miller and Richard Gardenar were first introduced in 'Once Around the Sun' by D. G' Finlay (Star Books X978)- 12 from view under a neat white cap which pertly framed her oval face and tied demurely with a bow beneath her chin. She stood quietly behind Richard's shoulder, resisting the urge to tuck her hand into his. It had all been so quick, this sudden proposal of marriage a short month before he left. There had been little time for her to sew her clothing and she and Biddy had sat over dresses and shifts, linen and shirting until the early hours of each morning. She put her cheek very lightly against the stout roughness of his heavy homespun coat and wondered how long it would retain its pleasing smell of wood ash and wholesome man. She laid her hand on his fore- arm. 'I shall be helping Mistress Chilton and Mistress Mullens with the food.' He looked round at her and for a moment stared into her upturned face as though searching for something long lost. Then the smile creases deepened round eyes and mouth and he put an arm across her shoulders for. a moment, nodded his thanks then turned again to the magnet of the Mayflower's creaming wake and the little Speedwell nodding and rolling astern of them. lEgh above his cousin, up on the poop, Christopher Jones was also watching the Speedwell. There was a fine following breeze and they were making excellent progress past the Isle of Wight and out into the open sea. There was something strange about Speedwell's motion, however. She seemed to be making heavy weather of her progress, bowing too low before each gust so that the increasing swell sometimes hid her hull from view altogether. Maybe it was simply the cut of her Tig that gave this impression of instability. Her master, Sirus Reynolds, seemed competent enough, although be had been reticent and tetchy when they met, complaining about the distribution of supplies. Little Speedwell carried the greater -ngers while Mayflower, with her forty- complement of passe eight souls, carried most of the freightage. The wind freshened steadily as they headed out into the open sea and the sun warmed the back of his neck. He swung him- self down to the half deck and stooped as he entered the mate's cabin. Already the galley was beginning to prove itself a hazardous place in which to learn the art of cooking at sea. It was a small airless space on one side of the foc'sle, complete with bricked hearth, but the open wood fire beneath the specially reinforced trivet had a tendency to scatter its glowing embers when the 13 ship ploughed into a heavy sea, as it did now. The three women, not yet at home with the frugal arrangements on board, prepared their morning pottage in a welter of pots and utensils. The great iron kettle swung sickeningly on its trivet hooks. The women gasped as the, sea suddenly took the ship and the deck beneath their feet began to roll and buck alarmingly. The heavy iron cauldron swung on its tripod and one of the hooks gave under its weight. As they gaped at it, clutching each other ~or support, it lurched sickeningly, spilling its thick and scald- mg contents over the glowing fire and splashing out on to the blackened floor about their feet. It broke away from its trivet and fell with a resounding crash to roll and rumble away under the heavy oak galley table which at least appeared to be firmly secured to the deck. 'Praise us all . . . Praise us all! Alice Muffins clung to the table as the iron pot, three pans and a scatter of bread loaves emerged from under the table as the ship beeled over, and skittered across the floor, only to roll back again as the ship's movement became more violent. They grabbed at walls and doorway, steadying themselves with little cries, as they inched towards bucket and brushes as the fast congealing mass of pot- tage spread its greenish fingers stickily across the floor around them. Becky suddenly began to laugh, looking at the long faces of the other two. 'How foolish we must look to any sailor. We'll have to do better than this if we are not all to starve.' Another roller caught the ship and they were thrown across the galley, dishevelled and soup-stained. Depression left them and they giggled at each other's appearance and set about cleaning the mess as well as the movement would permit. . Susanna Chilton ruefully examined the almost empty cook- mg pot as, together, they lifted it back on to its trivet books. 'I'm afraid it will mean only ale or water with the bread this breakfast.' She peered through the fo'c'sle doorway at the heaving seascape. 'I doubt though, that there will be many interested in food before long if this sort of sea remains with us! The three women peered out at the great troughs and rollers undulating greenly in froths of creamy wave crests around them - and felt the gall rising in their stomachs. Grabbing bread and yellow Dutch butter, they slid and stumbled across the plunging main deck towards the hatch in the Great Cabin. Curtains of fine silver spray soaked them as they went. Their feet slipped and lunged on the wet ladder and they made their 14 way unsteadily through hunched and sickly groups to the single refectory table in the long 'tween decks which was to be their home for the next few weeks. Already there was much sickness among the passengers. The small, flimsily constructed cubicles for the families did little to hide the sounds of suffering and the sour smell of vomit. Soon, those who were able, scrambled back on deck or huddled in the outer gallery of the Great Cabin, where, at least, the air was fresh. Becky felt no discomfort but only a strange elation in the prancing progress of the ship. How magnificent it would be to ride up in the main mast crow's nest and race this wild and lively creature against wind and weather. Aelfrith's Norse blood stirred joyously in her veins as she turned to help those whose sickness had quickly themselves or their families. From a quiet, albeit stuffy cabin, the 'tween decks gradually assumed the appearance of a fever ward, the floor and air soured with sickness and misery. White-faced men and women sought to keep their balance as they comforted frightened and heaving children who wept as their stomachs lurched and the ship pitched and slid from one roller to another. The deckhead had begun to leak, and salt water dripped from a dozen cracks to fall, unseen and unchecked, upon clothing, bedding, furni- ture and livestock. The day wore itself into dusk and, with the setting of the s"n the sea lost some of its vigour. Becky climbed stiffly up on deck of rope while the evening to and sat on a coil breeze, light and innocent after its boisterous passage through this first day, cleansed her clothing of the acrid smell of sickness which clung to every part of her. She relaxed, letting the tiredness drain away, leaning her head back against the heavy longboat. Her eyes drooped and closed. She dozed, hands folded in the lap of her brown wool dress. A sailor passed, bare feet padding across the slippery deck. He paused, seeing her resting quietly alone behind the deck -cargo. Interest quickened as his eyes took in the creamy skin which exhaustion had drawn taut on to high cheek bones, the thick sweep of dark curling lashes, violet hued beneath them. That she was comely and slim with high set, well-rounded breasts and small waist was not lost on him and he licked the salt from cracked lips and ventured a step towards her, glanc- ing about him. She felt his presence through her tiredness and opened her eyes with a start. The stood two paces from rendered them unable to help her, body poised to move closer. He was stocky, legs bowed against the ship's motion, hot-eyed, unshaven. She looked at him steadily, feeling the power well up in her and pour out over him, enlarging the pupils of her eyes so that they expanded into great black pools, fathomless - still. Tbe sailor checked. He hung frozen with one foot in front of the other, unable to drop his gaze before the immensity of the luminous pools which pinned the very breath in his chest. He whimpered, a small animal sound in his throat - and the girl closed her eyes again ... leaving him trembling, heart thudding with fright in his barrel chest, to back away and turn and run. She hadn't moved a muscle except for her eyelids, yet the whole of him was filled with an appalling fear of her. In haste and uncaring, he tripped across the legs of a sic passenger huddled miserably in the scuppers. He kicked o savagely at the unprotesting legs as be passed. 'Soddin' Ian crabs ... stomachs like lily white virgins ... get back to yer mothers' tits ... tis all you're good for. . . ' The passenger, depleted from continuous vomiting, moved his legs feebly. He heard the muttered curse and ruefully reflected that if the whole voyage was to be like this first day, when at least the sun shone upon his misery, be was inclined to kly ut d agree with the fellow. The 'tween decks were too evil-smelling to contemplate sleeping in this night. He struggled to his feet, averting his eyes from the sight of the smaller ship, scarcely visible in the gathering dusk, rolling heavily some distance behind them and appearing to set even lower in the sullen evening swell. Gingerly, he climbed the half-deck ladder to talk to the ship's master. Speedwell was taking in water. She laboured painfully behind Mayflower, slowly losing way as she butted into the rolling sea. As night followed day and the ocean's clamour eased, she seemed to pick up and make better progress towards May- flovvr's distant shroud lamps. Elder Brewster made much of this time in his evensong but there were few of his congregation able to kneel with him. Instead they prayed from their beds as day and night chased each other and the awful sawing motion continued. It was infinitely worse on little Speedwell as the passengers were pressed closer together in the smaller accommodation. A few of them, including Brewster himself, were beginning to find their sea legs since they had been at sea 16 for fourteen days already before they set off in convoy with the larger ship. Edward and Gilbert Winslow had not been troubled at all by the heavy movement, although young Gilbert had only just joined his brother at Southampton. The whole group from Holland bad elected to remain together on the smaller ship so that their prayers and quiet life pattern might not come into conflict with the non-sectarian passengers who had joined the voyage at Southampton. There would be time enough to clarify their beliefs when they were safely delivered to their Virginia plantation. Most of the other passengers would, in any event, be taking up their trades in Jamestown and would never be part of their number. Elder Brewster sat in his cabin, sifting through sheets of accounts which John Carver had left for him to peruse, Al- ready, it seemed, their path was proving a rocky one as there had been much bickering and suspected double dealing among their agents and the adventurers whose financial backing was making the whole of this venture possible. The final blow, after days of haggling and bitter argument, was to discover that their agents, Thomas Weston and Robert Cushman, one of their own people, had finalised the terms of their written agreement with no reference to the rest of their number. It had caused a wave of anger and affront since they had worked for weeks in Leyden to ensure that the terms and wording would be to the benefit of every man. Now the document they were asked to sign read very differently and no longer contained the vital clause whereby every man should, at the end of the seven year agreement, own his own house and domestic land. They were, it seemed, to become the unpaid servants of the monev- lenders with little to call their own. The ships had sailed with the agreement unsigned - and the investors refusing further financial support. They had left the shores of England ingloriously, owing money for some of their stores and forced to sell vital food and ammunition to. pay for their immediate necessities. They sailed on the dawn tide with no farewells, no goodwill and only a sullen Torr Weston to remind them that they still owed money in the town. It was strangely heartening, Brewster thought, that in spite of all their problems, there was a joyous air of jauntiness and good humour in the young people around him. They were nearly all in their twenties and thirties, chosen with care for their health as well as their youth and the strength of their faith. They were strong and fervent in their convictions 17 2 and, with his own special brand of encouragement and prayer, would surely be able to surmount the peril and hardship ahead of them. He and John Carver and Samuel Fuller were the senior members of their congregation though there must be one or two good men on Mayflower who were, like themselves, over fifty. The women were all a good deal younger - as they needed'to be with so much toil ahead of them and something like twenty children to care for and more to produce. His own wife, Mary, was probably the senior woman among their number, though Catherine Carver was only a year or so younger and certainly not as robust. Brewster sat back in his chair, feeling the strained plunging of the deck beneath him. It had been hard to leave the older children and bring only young Love and little Wrestling but many of their number had had to make the same decision and in any case John was fully adult now and studying hard. Until he had his education completed to his own satisfaction, there would be no moving him. The girls were a different matter. Approaching woman- hood and both as sweet as peaches, Patience was highly strung and inclined to be timid, and Fear, though small in stature, was the fierce protector of her sister in all things. It would have been unwise to have brought Patience to unknown shores and Fear would go nowhere without her. They were certainly safe and would lack no love in the household of their beloved pastor, John Robinson. Next year maybe, when their new community bad been established and their plantation a thriving concern, would be the time to send for them - and for all the others left behind. Brewster closed tired eyes as the long list of figures danced on the paper before him. The candle on the wall lantern behind his head bobbed and wavered, casting its soft yellow light upon his, head. There was scarcely a grey hair among the neatly dipped locks, in spite of his fifty-four years. He was firm muscled, heavy shouldered, inclined to pouchiness about the chin but otherwise lacking in middle-aged slackness of body. Life had never presented a period of case and complacence since his childhood in faraway Scrooby. There had always been dissention with the interpretation of the English Church in that area, and he had become aware of the subject at an early age. Cambridge was a hot bed of dissenting Puritans and when he had gone into the service of Sir William Davison, a Minister of the Queen, his education in dissention was broadened. Later, when he returned home after his master had been made a scape- 18 goat over the execution of Mary Queen of Scots and flung into the Tower, he found that the rumbles in his area were becom- ing more organised. Over the years he had attended meetings quiet farmhouses, helped in the formation of a clear cut format for worship, listened, stirred to the roots of his being to the preaching of three ministers who were to shape his whole future and that of many others also: John Smyth of Gainsborough, Richard Clifton of Babworth and John Robinson of Sturton-le- Steeple. It was finally with them that he and his family, to- gether with a steady stream of dissenters from all over the country, fled England and sought refuge in Holland where there was greater freedom of thought and they were not so likely to be intimidated. What restless years those had been, how hard the going, setting up in a strange foreign town with another language to learn, other crafts to be found. A countryman is rarely content living in a town - and his people had been no exception, but they had managed it and earned the respect of their Dutch neighbours in the doing. Now it was time to move on once more, since Holland was under threat by Spain and a spread to Popery could not be tolerated. Leyden - he had a sudden yearning for the beautiful university town with its mellow houses and dignified college courts, the streets lined with trees and spacious with squares and flowers. It was a scholarly place, full of those who sought to learn and in learn- ing, gave to others. Languages, medicine, alchemy, history . . . many of their number had benefited from their proximity to knowledge. Sam Fuller was a serge maker by trade now, but his interest in medicine had led him to attend lectures at the university and he had come away with certainly the beginnings of skill. Enough, at any rate, to be of the greatest assistance to them all in the preserving of health in the community. Brewster's mind idled over his companions, marvelling at their diversity of occupations after twelve years away from English soil. Isaac Allerton, now there was a sharp one. He began as a tailor but was now a thriving merchant with a nose for a good bargain . . . Young Will Bradford, his close attendant since the lad had been a small child. An orphan with some property in Austerfield, near his own home, he was now a weaver to earn his daily bread but what an enlarging mind he had . .* . every spare moment was used in the learning of languages and the attending of church business. Edward Win- slow, who joined them in Leyden as a printer, after almost completing his apprenticeship in London. He and Brewster 19 worked well together, writing and printing the tracts and papers which spread the word of their faith and drew to them increas- ing numbers who thought in the same vein. A happy young man, Edward - always cheerful, always finding something to laugh about. He had been one of the strongest supporters of the movement to sail to Virginia and had managed to persuade many a doubter by the sheer optimism and happiness of his nature. Will White who was now a wool carder and whose wife Susanne would bear him a child in December ... John Turner (what a long way they had travelled together over the years). He had been a farmer with many good acres in the Austerfield days. Now he was a merchant, and a most astute one and a Burgess of Leyden, well thought of by the townsfolk as well as by themselves ... Thomas Tinker too was an old friend of those troubled English years. Now he was content to ply his trade as a wool sawyer and help in th~ administration of their com- munity. There were many others, all good people, all strong in their determination to make something durable and excellent out of this endeavour. Brewster smiled to himself as he went through every one in his mind. He was fortunate to have the unfailing support of men and women such as these. Dawn of the third day broke and the sea had ceased its bucket- ing, content now to frisk and frolic about the two ships as they bowed and rolled before a light breeze. As the first light strengthened, Christopher Jones took a plate of meat, bread and a flask of ale before going out on to the half deck to make an inspection of Speedwell's progress. He found the mate at the rail, already examining the little ship through his spy glass. 'What do you make of her?'he said. Jones leaned against the balustrade and squinted out over the dancing water to where Speedwell rode, ever lower in the water and still losing way between them. Three flags hung from the upper shrouds. They held the message - 'approach for con- versation'- and 'I need help'. 'She's got trouble there, all right,' John Clark said, handing over the glass. He screwed up one eye and peered into the leather-bound aperture. Magnified, the awkward motion of the smaller ship became even more pronounced and he could see figures scurry- ing about the deck and up in the rigging as the distant figure of Captain Reynolds gave orders for more sail. Tones sighed and turned his back on SpeedweTPs struggles. 'Give the order for going about,' he said to Clark. 'We'll see what ails her ... and send a message to Mr Martin! In the 'tween decks area there were signs of improvement among the seasick passengers, though the sudden sweeping sensation as the ship commenced her turn alarmed and dis- turbed them all. A boy, rime shining in tangled hair, brought down the captain's message to Christopher Martin who had been about to go and enquire about the change of course. As agent for the passengers and governor of the ship, he had a keen sense of importance and insisted upon being kept informed about every aspect of the voyage. He was a short man, with a red face which reflected, all too clearly, his tendency to uncon- trolled rages. He had always been impatient of others and possessed a very low tolerance of anyone who crossed words with him. He had therefore felt himself sorely tried during the last few weeks, by the necessity of his partnership with Robert Cushman, the Leyden Group's agent. Cushman's careful perusal of all stores' lists and constant demands to check Martin's accounts and lading bills had driven him almost to apoplexy. Now, tutting with annoyance over the captain's message, be sought out Cushman among the deck passengers. He was not difficult to find as he had hardly moved in hours. He was huddled in his cloak in the lee of the main mast, weak from sickness and dehydration. Looking down at his colleague's drawn face with undisguised distaste, Martin held out the hastily written message and jerked his head towards the distant Speedwell. 'More delays, it would seem. Speedwell is dropping away and Captain Jones is going to investigate her position. He feels she may be shipping water, to judge by her movement.' He looked down as Cushman took the message, his red rimmed eyes trying to focus on the writing. An ague shook his body and the paper trembled and escaped his blue fingers. 'I'm sorry! His voice was little more than a croak. 'I'm feeling extremely poorly and have little sense in my fingers ... or in any part of me right now.' He closed his eyes as tremors shook him afresh. Martin shrugged and turned away. He bad never been troubled by the sea himself. It was a weakness of the flesh that he didn't indulge. He had made this voyage once already and felt himself the only experienced traveller among the passengers with the possible exception of Mr Hopkins. Let Cushman re- cover himself in his own time - his absence could well be afforded. He watched as the ship approached Speedwell, circled and came into hailing distance. A few recovering pas- sengers appeared from below and huddled together against the breeze to watch and listen as the two masters roared their exchanges. 'Ho there, Speedwell. What's your trouble?' Jones's voice bellowed mightily across the water from high up on the poop. 'We're taking in quite a sea.' Reynold's voice came back to them thin and clear across the dancing blue sea. 'She is leaking like a sieve and rolling badly, even in this calm. Might be the way she is stowed, but we had no trouble between Holland and England. The way we're going now, though, we shall lose you altogether in poor visibility and you have our victuals for the latter part of the voyage.' Jones cursed softly under his breath. The man had been more than terse about the uneven distribution of passengers and supplies when they had joined the agents' meetings in South- ampton. However, the provisioning had not been of his plan- ning, nor was it his responsibility. His charter was to accompany Speedwell to Jamestown, drop his passengers and transfer the remaming stores - and return to London, leaving Speedwell to transport the Leyden group from Jamestown to their patented lands a hundred or so miles to the north. If they now had to wait upon the slower ship, they would all pay dearly in both time and weather, not to mention the probability of running low in their rations. 'Shall I send you over my carpenter and caulker?' he called, 'or should we lead you into the nearest haven for repairs?' 'We can't find the whole source of the leakage, but there is one timber plank below the water line which seems loose and rotten. I'd as soon have her examined right through as continue the voyage with her leaking to this degree.' The passengers on Speedwell listened to Reynold's words with alarm mixed with relief. It had become abundantly clear even to the least experienced of them that the little ship was labouring and that the pump, manned by a continuous crew of perspiring sailors, was no longer coping with the level of water in the bilges. They hung anxiously upon the exchange of words between the two masters while the coastline was discussed and the nearest anchorages considered. It was finally agreed that they should make for Dartmouth with its deep-water river and protected haven. At this time of the year, her fishing fleet would still be about their profitable business off the Newfoundland fishing grounds and the port would be quiet, her shipwrights eager for work. Sails were trimmed and the two ships set course for the blue line of Devon's distant coast. Robert Cushman drifted between sleep and an unreal aware- ness of his surroundings. Periodically he was shaken by stomach cramps but he was content to drift behind closed eyes in a limbo of misery. Someone called his name and a hand was put upon his shoulder and he struggled out of the whirlpool of his nausea and tried to focus on the face which floated above him. 'Mr Cushman, can I help you down to your cabin?' Richard Gardenar eyed the older man with growing concern. He had been slightly sick himself on the first day, but as the sea abated and he became used to its movement, he had recovered and even found that he was able to help Becky and Surgeon Heal with some of the sufferers. He had twice tried to give assistance to Cushman but it was obvious that he preferred to keep his own counsel, remaining on deck where the chill salt air at least re- vived him from time to time. He had, however, been grateful of a helping hand when he needed to relieve himself as the heads were out in the beak and consisted only of a grating, over which they must all squat. Catching sight of Cushman, huddled wretchedly under his cloak, a motionless bundle, it occurred to him that there had been no movement from him for some time. Leaning over him and studying the grey tinge to his pallid features, it- was a relief to find him still breathing. Cushman looked up at him vaguely, his eyes unfocused. Richard put an arm about his shoulder and lifted him gently to his feet. 'Come, Mr Cushman. Let me take you down to your bunk where you can rest more comfortably. My Becky will mix you something to ease your stomach and settle you.' Cushman allowed himself to be helped down the forward hatchway and into his cubicle, a small cell which he shared with another man. Richard settled him on to his straw mattress and covered him with a blanket and the salt-stiff cloak. The air 'tween decks was heavy and reeking and a few passengers were still being ill but much had already been done to clear up the chaos of the first days. Richard peered into dark recesses, searching the overcrowded cubicles for Becky and eventually found her with the Hopkins family. The small space allocated to each group was hardly large enough to accommo- date more than the straw mattresses, travelling chests and a couple of pieces of furniture. Elizabeth Hopkins sat up in bed, propped against the bulk- head with pillows, a fur cover over her knees. She was pale but free of the sickness which had assailed her for most of the journey so far. Her concern was for her stepdaughter Constanta who, at fifteen and just stepping into womanhood, was prone, these days, to fits of weeping and general malaise. Constanta's dark head lay in her lap so that she could, from time to time' wi . pe the child's forehead gently with a fine cloth moistened with lavender water. At the same time, her smiling cornflower blue eyes were on Becky who was busy making cat's-cradles of a length of red wool for little Damaris. 'Forgive me,' Richard kept his voice low as Constanta stirred. 'Would you spare me Becky for a few minutes? I have brought Mr Cushman down from the deck. He seems to be in bad shape and could do with your help and maybe Surgeon Heal's also.' Becky rose quickly, putting the three-year-old Damaris from her with a quick kiss on the child's golden head. She followed Richard back to the Cushman cabin and knelt beside the bunk. She put a hand as light as a bird's wing to his forehead, bent her ear to his chest, then, satisfied, glanced up at Richard who hovered in the doorway. She rose in a rustle of skirts and nodded. 'I think I might have something to help the poor man,' she said quietly. 'He is very depleted and his insides must be painful and inflamed by now. I'll make a mix for him and if he does not respond to that, then we must get Surgeon Heal to him.' She swung through the doorway past him, brisk and thoughtful, her mind already going through the herbs she had brought as she made for their cubicle. He smiled after her and settled himself on Cushman's sea chest which also doubled for a table. Behind her she left a fragrance of sweet briar and his pulse quickened. Biddy had smelt of sweet briar too ... The memory suddenly took shape in the dim cabin and be groaned to himself. What had possessed him to do this thing. It was fast becoming a nightmare, and Becky, in her innocence and sweetness, daily feeling a deeper hurt from him ... They had not consurnmated the marriage though they had been man and wife now for eleven days and nights. They had spent a week in lodgings behind the Bar Gate in Southampton after the little church ceremony at Stoke. He had assumed a 24 gently considerate attitude towards her, making much of the fact that they had had no time to enjoy the usual period of courtship, and he was anxious, he said, not to inflict himself upon her privacy until they knew more of each other. At first, Becky had been touched and grateful but as the days went by and she warmed to him, she became bewildered as his formal courtesy failed to flower into a normal relationship. He could feel the uncertainty in her now and smote himself - but Biddy was still too close, and the sight of Becky, identical in every outward way, only piled coals on the fire of his frustration. She returned, slipping out of the shadows with a mug of steaming willow tea in one hand, a cloth across her arm and a bowl of sweet smelling water in the other. He watched from his seat on the chest as she knelt again by the bunk and spoke softly to the sick man. She dipped a corner of the cloth into the bowl, squeezed it out, and carefully wiped the man's grey, sunken face. He murmured his thanks, squinting up at her with red rimmed, salt encrusted eyes. Her deft, swift movements seemed to revive him and he was able to put his mouth to the cup of warm, aromatic tea which she held for him. He sipped from it slowly, then with greater confidence as it slipped smoothly down, moistening his parched throat, its extra ingredients of fine poppy powder and vervaine easing the inflammation in him. She cleaned the rime from his eyelids, washed his hands and dried them and, under her breath, she murmured words that echoed no further than her own lips; words from a language that was older than the hills and long forgotten. It was Biddy again who had taught her these special prayers and in turn, they had come from her visits to Old Meg the Healer, who lived in the cottage in Bury Woods. She knew that she had little of Biddy's fire and passion while they had lived in each other's shadow but now that she was alone for the first time and surrounded by people who needed her, the ancient ~vords began to have more meaning for her and her growing interest in her medicine chest and the precious little book of mixings were taking on a new meaning. She finished the rune, tucked the blanket closely about the sick man, and sat on her heels to watch the potion take effect. By the time Richard rose stiffly to his feet and stretched and the shadows had begun to lengthen across the bed, Cushman had stopped shivering and had fallen into a settled sleep. She stood up, brushing the dust from her skirt, and tiptoed out of the cabin. Richard followed her to their own cubicle, wanting to 25 be near and lacking the words to explain his wishes either to her or to himself. He watched with interest as she tidied the many jars of dried herbs and roots, berries and prepared balms, arranging them with precision in the many small drawers and cupboards of the little apothecary's chest which had been Biddy's special wedding present to her. She paused as she felt his hand on her shoulder. 'If those holy folk on Speedwell need an angel of mercy, I shall tell them where to find you,' be said softly. She turned and clung to him, feeling the slow, unhurried beat of his heart and knowing that this was not the moment for private warmth. 'I shall be back with the Hopkins family if you need me again this afternoon,' she said, closing the last drawer with a sharp click. 'She has some books on Gloucestershire cookery and we like to read the recipes to each other in order to learn them off by heart. She is sore uncomfortable these days for her child is large in her and she is afraid of being taken to bed with the birth while we are still at sea.' He watched her go, her hand at her throat, fingers stroking the little bone pendant she wore always. Biddy had one also, and shared the same absentminded trick. The same ... always the same ... but with the strangest possible and quite undefin- able difference. Maybe Becky was a witch as the gossips of Forton had begun murmuring. Her little spells and brews cer- tainly worked with great efficiency but there was nothing evil in her, just simplicity and that wonderful warm smiling good- ness. Of the two, it was much more likely that Biddy with her fire and passion would be the one to cast an evil spell upon another neighbour. She had certainly put some kind of magic upon him, binding him in a shameless, heart-stopping way... she could be what she was, it would never matter to him. He carried the magnificent animal memory of her with him always. He lifted the lid of his chest and took out a leather bound book. To read was a blessed balm and he settled on their bunk, the candle beside him dancing in its brass bolder, and opened the thick vellum pages. The passengers on Mayflower had begun to acquire the begin nings of a daily routine. Those men who were able, walked the deck to gain their sea legs and exercise, and to get to know each other while the sea nagged and chuckled beneath the ship's stout bull. The women busied themselves within their allotted 26 spaces and they cajoled the ship's cook into showing them th correct procedure for hanging the cooking pots on the iror trivet so that they swung in bad weather rather than tippin over, spilling their precious contents. He was persuaded to shom them how to marinate strips of burgoo and make a passable steA from the hard salt meats. They quickly learned to soften thei rocklike tack by dipping it into whatever they were drinking, b( it soup, hot toddy or beer. The diet, though restricted, wa much the same as the usual winter fare at home, except tha bread was now short and there was no facility for making frest loaves, especially as the flour was strictly rationed to last them into their first harvest. The dried fruit quarters were always a welcome part of the meal for the children whose growing bodie soon began to yearn for sugar as their stomachs became accus- tomed to the ship's motion. One of the most irritated sufferers on Mayflower was Miles Standish, Captain of Infantry and veteran of the Dutch wars Stockily built with thinning reddish hair and a complexion which quickly suffused in argument, his temper was as short as his person, both facts being a constant sorrow to him. It now irked him beyond measure to discover a weakness in himself that all the strength of his iron will could do nothing to control Sickness had always overcome him on the sea, but previous voyages had been short enough for him to recover quickly What he now found so hard to bear was the fact that Rose, his wife - gentle and shy in all things - showed no sign at all of indisposition. On the contrary, she seemed - with a handful of other fortunates - to be actually invigorated by the prancing and rolling of the ship. Her cheeks, so often pale from indis- position, were rosy and glowing, and already she was steady on her feet. Was there even, he wondered tetchily, the suggestion of amusement in her constant concern and devoted attention to him? Certainly it was a long time since he had seen so much sparkle in her grey-blue eyes. Leaning over the ship's side as he did for much of each day, be endeavoured to keep his digni up and a little hard tack and water down. Sometimes he became mesmerised by the boiling cream of Mayflower's wake as she bowled along before a gusty following breeze, cutting a couple of milky swathes which stretched out behind them on the heav- ing water like trailing pennants. Well in sight of land, scream- ing clouds of gulls followed them, diving into the turbulence to snatch at an occasional sturined fish. Above his bead, the wind buffeted through the rigging, plucking at the singing shrouds 27 Ue a harpist and punching the great sails with a monotonous thwack ... thwack. At first the noise had made him feel edgy, but now he hardly noticed it unless an extra heavy squall raised the clamour to a dull roar. All eyes were drawn to where Speedwell laboured gamely bchind them. After waiting in Southampton for eleven days already for her, there was a certain amount of muted resentment that she was now causing a further delay. Miles eyed the little ship balefully. He was accompanying the Leyden group as their military adviser, seeing in this opportunity the chance to prove his ability in the field, something so far denied him in European action. So much of his life had been spent out of England that he no longer identified with his family there or with his Orms- kirk roots. The Low Countries bad been his home for much of his thirty-six years and he bad often listened to the eloquent preaching of the Leyden group's pastor, John Robinson. In- deed, though he had never been drawn by a positive attitude towards religion, he found himself very much in agreement with most of Robinson's and William Brewster's interpret- ations, finding them both moderate in outlook and practical in practice. He was a great respecter of logic in all things and so, when Pastor Robinson had approached him with their vision of a new life in the great northern lands of America, he had agreed to join them and secure their community's defence. Of course, there had been some doubts about Rose's ability to make the journey and to acclimatise herself to the rough hardships they would undoubtedly meet along the way. She was some years younger than he and, after fifteen years of marriage, still unable to bear him a son. She tended to brood too much on this fact, feeling that she had failed him in the one great wish of his life. Headaches and general debility began to weaken her so that latterly there was hardly a day when she was not burdened with one complaint or another. Since he liked to pride himself on having an enduringly healthy body and mind, it was with a certain chagrin that he now had to concede Rose's increasing well being in direct contrast with his own. He cursed under his breath as a gull's dropping fell across the back of his hand, the soft splat of its moist arrival causing him to jerk to one side and his stomach to cringe ominously. He shook the mess off and rubbed his hand across his breeches. Maybe though, if one looked at the small happening through the eyes of Pastor Robinson, the gull's message might be read as a gift from heaven. He risked a cautious glance above his head 28 to where the heavenly messenger perched among the shrouds. The bird fixed a stem glass eye upon him and he scowled at it in return and moved a few paces along the deck. They were running parallel with the coast now and the sun tinged the chalk cliffs and headlands with warm gold. 'Land,' he thought longingly. 'God's truth, but we've been at sea for six days now and are still in the land of our fathers.' The look- out called from aloft, pointing out beyond them as the blunt nose of Froward Point cleared the horizon. There was instant activity all about him and Miles withdrew to the discomfort of the Great Cabin where the passengers were beginning to rouse themselves and excitement brightened their eyes. It would, after all, be a most wel~ome break to be able to stretch cramped muscles and walk on dry land again for a short time, even if it was the land they were so eager to depart from. CHAPTERTWO Mayflower and SpeedweU came in on the evening tide, round- ing Froward Point while there was still plenty of daylight left. They slipped between the treacherous sentinel rocks, Bare Arse and Black Stone, losing their wind as they passed St Petrock on the port side and Kingswear Castle on the starboard. The River Dart was peaceful and almost empty of traffic but a small rowing boat put out to direct them to their anchorage - May- flower tied on to a buoy in mid-stream while Speedwell, making heavy weather of her increasing list, secured off North Quay. Christopher Martin, having conferred with the captain, made his way down to the 'tween decks and rapped on the thin plank- ing of Cushman's cubicle partition. Cushman was out of his bunk, in the process of tidying his sour and crumpled clothing, his face gaunt and pasty. He turned from his opened trunk and greeted Martin with heart sinking at the sight of the strutting, impatient figure in the doorway. 'I'm glad to see you on your feet at last,' Martin said, eyeing the little cubicle with distaste. Cushman opened his mouth to 29 thank him but Martin swept on in a voice burdened with in- difference and self importance. 'I have spoken with Master Jones and it is agreed that the passengers should continue to sleep on board.' 'But what about the women And younger children?' Cushman was dismayed., Why was it that this man had the unhappy knack of turning the mildest conversation into an argument? 'There are certainly some who should have the benefit of this respite for the well-being of their families.' Martin shrugged. 'If they pay their own way, they may do as they wish, but there are no funds, as you well know, to pay for passengers' lodgings. We'll be hard put to it to find coinage for Speedwell's repairs as it is.' This was only too true. The two men had had constant disagreements concerning the project's finance since the day that Martin had been selected as agent for the English pas- sengers and guardian of their assets. It seemed impossible for him to produce bills for the quantities of supplies he had ordered. Where Cushman had tried to emphasize the need for simple basic tools for their use in the wilderness, Martin had insisted upon the necessity of furniture and clothing. Half the firearms and ammunition that were- so vital for Standish's defensive needs were rejected in favour of livestock, a luxury that they could well do without until the next ship arrived in the following spring. The battle of minds had continued after Mayflower sailed, till Cushman's patience had worn thin with his colleague's overbearing manner. 'I know that Mistress Hop- kins and her family would wish to sleep ashore,' he said quietly. 'Possibly Mistress Mullins and Mistress White too.' Martin was already turning to leave. 'See to it that they are all informed of instructions then, will you?' he said over his shoulder - and was gone, pushing his way through the crowded cabin and shaking off the passengers' eager enquiries. Bidding his wife Marie to remain on board until he advised, he hurried on deck to catch the gig which was being lowered to take Captain Jones and the mate over to New Quay to consult with Speedwell, and the leaders of the Leyden Group. Miles Stan- dish and Stephen Hopkins watched them go and turned away to join Cushman. Evening deepened into night as the last small clouds fol- lowed the sun, leaving a clear star sprinkled sky and the air fresh and mellow. It was good to work in the galley without the customary rolling and butting motion of the open sea. 30 Becky took her turn with Priscilla Mullins, under the direction of Mistress Billington. It had been agreed that one experienced woman should direct two younger ones for the messing arrange- ments and so far this plan was working well, though the chronic sickness had offered few customers for food during the first six days at sea. Most of the women found plenty in common with each other and there was little friction. Already there was a certain amount of preening among the younger men who were unmarried, since there were three young girls among Mayflower's passengers and more on Speedwell. All were comely enough and must surely find a husband in the near future, maybe even from among their own number. Constanta Hopkins and Mary Chilton were both fifteen and had quickly struck up a friendship. Priscilla Mullins was a little older at eighteen and considerably more worldly. She was tall for a woman, standing eye to eye with her father, heavy black hair coiled neatly in plaited knots on either side of her head be- neath the lace-edged dimity cap. She was proud of her hair and combed it several times each day or whenever there was little else to do. Combing it with long slow strokes soothed her, smoothing away the constant flurries of apprehension which overtook her when she wondered about her future so far from the English countryside. She was a headstrong girl and inde- pendent, n ot given to girlish vapours but happy to take on more than her allotted duties where help was most needed. She sat in the warm night air after the evening meal was over, watching the lamplighter with his flare, touching the lamps along the jetty. Dartmouth looked friendly and secure, the lighted windows of the taverns and dwelling houses re- flected in slashes of wavering gold in the still, fast-running surface of the river. There was a movement along the deck and from the shadows Becky joined her. 'There's so much activity 'tween decks,' she said. 'I shall give our little cubbyhole a thorough clean through in the morning, but, I felt like a few quiet moments with no one being sick and the deck staying level! She laughed. 'Funny though, I've enjoyed the movement of the sea most of the ~V time. Up here on deck it feels like a living thing under you, like riding a horse over the hills.' 'Wish I was doing that now,' Priscilla muttered. 'Yes, I know we're embarked on a great adventure and there will be all the action we could wish for later on, but I feel so cooped up on this ship! 31 'Where was your home?' Becky asked. 'Dorking, in Surrey ... well, a mile outside it. Father's a wool and shoe merchant, but he thinks very little of K~ing James and his influence since he came to the throne - or so he says. Anyway, that's why he and mother thought to set us all in the way of a fine new life while they are still young enough to make the move - and Jamestown seems a promising place to make a new start in ... Are you with the Dutch folk?' She eyed Becky closely, without rudeness, deciding how she felt about the neat, shadowy figure beside her. She seemed much the same age as she was, but married to that tall man with the lean, near haggard looks whose face in repose, she'd noticed, often wore an expression almost of pain. She had observed the couple walking the deck several times. They had appeared to have little to say to each other and yet there seemed no antipathy between them. Becky bore the close scrutiny calmly. 'No,' she said, seeing the light of curiosity in Priscilla's eyes. 'Richard was articled to the dock agent in Portsmouth and he's completed his time now and free to seek a position with good prospects in the New World. We were married just eight days before we came on board! 'Was Southampton your home?' The chestnut curls, forever escaping from the dimity cap, bobbed and shivered as Becky shook her head. 'Richard comes from Harwich in Essex and I come from Forton ... just out- side Gosport. That's on the mainland across the water from Portsmouth! She thought of the Mill with its special smell of clean bland flour, and the warm friendliness of the kitchen where her family gathered each Sabbath and she and Biddy baked and spit roasted for all the brothers and their families. It was the way their mother had liked Sundays to be; with all her children around and the grandchildren playing by the fire while she had a cuddle with the smallest of them. She was gone though and not all the mouming in the world would return her to them. Becky's mind paused over the image of her father, sunk now into an apathetic world of his'own, his sons running the Mill and Biddy seeing to his needs. There would be no more gaiety and laughter echoing up the oak stairway, no more romping twins, leaping and squealing on the ancient double bed till the groaning springs collapsed. 'Forgive me, but for one newly married, you often seem a little sad. Was Mr Gardenar not of yo$r choice?' 32 Beneath the cover of darkness Becky blushed deeply shocked at the closeness of the girl's unexpected question. '0 course he was my choice,' she said tartly. 'He is very fine anc most caring ... I never met a more considerate man.' 'Well, he's certainly fine to look at,' Priscilla grinned in th darkness. 'I was going to offer to relieve you of him if you hac been unhappy about your choice.' They laughed together, the small tension relaxing betweer them. The closeness in their ages and growing friendship begar to make Becky feel that maybe she wouldn't always miss Bidd~ in the aching way she did at present. Richard hardly spoke o her and seemed to turn away from the subject when her name entered the conversation. Maybe he missed her a little too. I had, after all, been Biddy that he had come to visit that firs time he had appeared at the Mill door. She pictured him down in their little cubicle now, no doub reading with the brass candle on the floor beside him. He had brought eight books with him and liked nothing better than to immerse himself in them, stroking the soft vellum pages wi a light fingertip as he read. There would be time enough fo reading, she thought, when they were finally established in their own home. Meanwhile, it was good to discover that thi direct and friendly girl would be in the same town also. The strangeness of their new surroundings would be lessened by having another family to visit and be close to. Becky opened her mouth to say this, but was suddenly aware that they were no longer alone. She stiffened, standing up sharply and pressing her back against the ship's side. Priscilla glanced up at her, sensing her tension. Leaning against the main mast was a figure. The moon rode clear and yellow in the night sky, but the man was motionless in shadow. Priscilla peered, seeing only the bunch of a shoulder, a glint as his eyes moved from one of them to the other. She heard a sharp intake of breath and turned to Becky. The girl stood rigid as a smal statue, her brown eyes blazing with a strange inner glow in the surnmer moonlight. As she watched in surprise, the light died and Becky lowered her eyes, closing them and lifting her face to the moon's radiance. The man whimpered. There was a small disturbance as he turned and loped away into the dark- ness. They listened to his receding progress. When he was gone Priscilla said 'Who was that? I could see nothing except that there was someone in the shadows. What made him run like a man in a graveyard?' Becky exhaled deeply, letting the breath go from her as though she had been holding it forever. 'It was the same man as the one I discovered spying on me a few days ago. He is a bad man ... I feel it.' She shivered in the warm night air and moved away from the ship's side. 'I think I will go below and join Richard. Will you stay here?' She turned and Priscilla followed her as they made for the cheerful glow of the stairway. 'You must point the man out to me,' she said as they scrambled down the ladder. 'I don't fancy indulging a peeping Tom with evil thoughts! Becky looked up at her, the smooth oval of her face glimmer- ing in the soft light of the stairwell. She nodded. 'Pleasant dreams,' she said with a little smile and was gone. Priscilla sat for a moment on the bottom rung of the ladder. She felt puzzled about something. It was as though something or someone had just passed her by and had spoken to her - and she had failed to catch the meaning of the words although she still heard their echo. The Council sat at table, their faces bathed in mellow candle- light which flickered and danced on the sides of their pewter tankards and drew monstrous shadows on the wall behind them. They had taken a private room at the back of the Coldsworth Arms, close by the quay where Speedwell lay. There were six of them at the table. The two masters, Reynolds and Jones, Elder William Brewster, Martin, John Carver and Stephen Hopkins. 'At dawn, we want all decks cleared,' Reynolds said briskly. 'That means the passengers must be transferred to Mayflower or established in the town. It also means the ship must be unloaded and her stores housed securely against theft. Until that's done, the chippies can't examine her properly, so may I ask for your assistance and co-operation?' 'I agree,' said Martin. 'Every day spent here is another day wasted and adding to the burden of extra cost which we are going to be hard put to settle as it is.' His small pale eyes darted from face to face, seeking discord and finding none. There was only weariness in Brewsttr's strong features and concern in the others. 'How did she handle on the Channel crossing?' asked Stephen Hopkins, remembering only too clearly the vastness of that infinitely larger stretch of water that they were bent on cross- 34 I ing. The memory of his last voyage was all too clear, for his ship had foundered in a terrifying storm and he had been ship- wrecked on the rocks of Bermuda. He had eventually con- tinued his journey to Virginia, where he had established a land grant so that he was, of their number, the only one present save Captain Jones, to have set foot upon Virginia soil. Martin, of course, never lost an opportunity to relate his adventures with the traders of New France further north. Reynolds took a deep draught of his ale. 'It was a good enough trip,' he said. 'With the extra footage added to the masts, she was inclined to overstep herself but she gave no real trouble, not like she is behaving now! 'How long should it take to complete her repairs?' Brew- ster was very aware of the inadequate finances and the awful wasting of these last days of summer. 'We won't know that, naturally, sir, until we discover what's amiss with her.' Reynolds fidgeted impatiently with his tankard. There can't be much wrong that can't be put right quickly, since she was fit and tight in Southampton.' 'I was wondering,' Jones said mildly, 'why you deemed it necessary to reset her sails so often before we sailed from there. Maybe you were feeling even then that all was not quite well with her, Mr Reynolds?' Reynolds glared across the table at the granite hewn face opposite him. He knew from hearsay that the deceptively mild tones of the ex-whaling skipper could become a painful trap for the unwary. Be prevaricated. 'There was nowt wrong with her, I tell you. I was simply experimenting since the extra foot- age had been added to her, as I've said. She'd felt on the tight side, that's all, and I needed the right rig to keep up with you.' Jones puffed at the clay pipe which was rarely out of his hand ashore. "Will you have the right rig for her when we leave here, would you say?' he asked softly, peering at Reynolds through a perfect smoke ring. He watched the man's face darken with anger that he would have felt, had he been taunted in the same manner. Reynolds seemed to splutter, paused to regain his com- posuTe and said icily, 'If you feel that you could do a better job with that leaky little bucket, then I suggest you assume com- mand. Speedwell is presently rigged to my complete satisfac- tion, and when she is reset before we sail, it will also be to my satisfaction however many times we set her.' He rose from the table, pushing the wooden chair roughly away from him. 'I see 35 no point in this sort of discussion unless you gentlemen have a' direct complaint to make. I shall commence destoring at first light and I want all passengers ashore by then. I bid you good night.' He left them, leaving a little pool of uncomfortable silence behind him. 'I have had an uncertainy of feeling regarding Mr Reynolds ever since we left Delftshaven,' Brewster ventured after a moment. They looked at him enquiringly through the haze of pipe- smoke. He put a hand to his face and rubbed his jaw, as though to smooth away the fine network of lines which the troubled years had etched upon him. 'In Leyden he seemed both eager for the appointment and enthusiastic about our project and readily agreed to stay with the whole crew and fish from Speedwell for the first year of our stay. He took his time ex- amining the ship, as a good mariner will. It was he who felt that the extra height should be added to the masts so that she might be equal to Mayflower's pace. However, his crew are surly and are becoming increasingly unmannerly towards us, and Reynolds at times seems little better than they. Yet he still gives us assurances of the loyalty of them all.' John Carver had been sitting quietly, listening to the con- versation and adding nothing. Now he sat forward. He was a quiet man, almost clerically pious - a deacon of his Church. He had joined the group in Leyden from Doncaster quite late in their travels; a serious man, scholarly and meditative. At fifty- three he was a year younger than Brewster. He looked from one face to another with gentle aesthete's eyes. 'I think we must not court problems by seeing them in every shadow. There are surely many real ones ahead of us. Let us simply be aware that Mr Reynolds and his crew have yet to become used to us and the way in which we try to conduct ourselves.'He smiled across the table at William Brewster with affection and complete understanding. 'Now, I have made contact with the ship- wrights and chandler and they will attend the ship as soon as we are ready for them.' The meeting broke up and Jones, Martin and Hopkins stood as Brewster shook each by the hand and left them, Carver in attendance. 'Can't think why it is necessary to stand as one would to My Lord Bishop,' Martin said, settling himself back in his chair and draining his tankard. 'There's something very arresting about old Brewster though. Tough as they come when he needs 36 to be, but very much to the manner born.' They pulled at the bell rope to order more ale and settled to an evening's good eating, drinking and consultation. Brewster and Carver found the Mayflower's gig tethered at the bottom of the jetty steps with a sleepy sailor in attendance. He rowed them out into midstream between splashes of reflected lamp light, towards the mass of the ship's looming shadow. Here and there a faint smudge of candlelight showed from the ports along her side and the riding lights high in the hempen fore and mainstays. Sounds from the town drifted over the water to them, magnified by the still air. Laughter and song from the tavern, women's voices raised in anger far away in the heart of the town. The river flowed swiftly by them and on between the high curve of invisible hills to the waiting sea. A strong current tugged at the little boat, sucking and gurgling around them as the sailor puffed and wheezed, forcing them against the flow. As the ship reared dimly over them be turned the boat and, sculling with practised ease, brought it in along- side the trailing rope ladder. Brewster thanked him. They would not be long visiting. Be kind enough to wait and take them back. Clambering up the unsteady rope ladder and over the side, they stood for a moment to recover their breath. There were several groups of passengers and crew about the deck, taking the fresh air and watching the life across the water in the little town. Miles Standish came forward from the shadows with out- stretched hands. 'How good it is to see you, sir.' He took Brewster by the arm and, with Carver at their heels, made their way down into the crowded quarters below. The children were eating their evening meal with every sign of renewed enjoyment and little of their recent illness. At the table's end, Becky sat reading to them. Brewster put his hand on Miles's arm to stay him for a moment and they paused to listen as the girl's low, musical voice dwelt lingeringly over Drayton's paeon to Virginia, written on the eve of his own departure for those shores so few years before. Wirginia, Earth's only Paradise. Where Nature hath in store 37 And the fruitfulest soil., Without your toil, Three harvests more, All greater than your wish And the ambitious vine Crownswith his purple mass, The Cedar reaching high, To kiss the sky, The Cypress, Pine And useful Sassafras. They listened to the soft voice, rich with its gentle Hamp shire burr, watching the children's rapt faces as the stewpo emptied and small hands reached for the last of the freshly baked wheaten cakes. The end of the deck near them was busy with conversation and laughter from a group poring over the two dice players in their midst. Elder Brewster looked at them, his eyes flicking across one face after another. Then he moved on as Miles led the way to his cubicle. He settled them on the neatly stitched quilt which covered his straw mattress and called to the Mullins' servant to fetch his guests some refreshment. They were exchanging their experiences over the previous days when Robert Cushman appeared, his ravaged face alight with pleasure. He brushed aside their immediate concern at his ashen appearance. 'I've never been a good sailor,' he said sadly, 'but there will be plenty of time during the voyage to become so. Another two or three days and I shall be cured and my querulous stomach accustomed to the motion! He asked about the outcome of their meeting and, wi Standish, listened intently as Brewster related the events and decisions of the evening gathering. They readily agreed that the following morning, those who had the money to do so could move into lodgings in the town until Speedwell was ready for sea. Their departure would allow more room for Speedwell's passengers to camp in Mayflower's deck space. With so little money to spare for this unplanned delay, there ~would not be many of the Leyden passengers able to afford to go ashore. The visitors soon rose to take their leave. There would be ample time for detailed discussion during the next few days. They retraced their steps through the crowded cabin and climbed up into the night. Becky watched them go, quiet men in their crumpled jackets a s brim down, tall on their heads - for all the world like a couple of crumpled crows. Others watched them also for a voice muttered from the other end of the room. 'Bloody vultures they look like. Not surprising their ship doesn't like 'em either. Glad I'm not berthed with a boat load of creep- ing bigots.' It had come from agent Martin's stepson, Salamon Prower, she noticed. No need for that sort of talk,' another said quickly. 'Takes all sorts to make a good world, Salamon, and I don't see's you're any too desirable yourself.' 'There was a gust of laughter. Prower had been extremely sick during the voyage, without having made much effort to clean himself up. He now looked and smelt more unsavoury than any of them. Becky had noticed the other speaker several times during the last few days. Although Richard had never met him before, he was also a distant kinsman of the captain, John Alden by name. He was a young giant of A man, with the broad shoulders and solid leg muscles of a weightlifter, taller even than Richard, who towered above most men. He had boarded the ship at Southampton as they had, but it had been some time before they learned that he was a cooper, taken on by the Leyden group to assist their first year in Virginia. She studied his fresh, open face - red checked, the humour showing round his eyes and mouth. A nice wholesome person, she thought, seeing the good light that came from him. . Her eyes travelled over the crowded room to where Richard's dark head showed beyond the dice players. He was sitting in a corner, a candle guttering beside him, the inevitable book across his knees, oblivious to everything around him. His con- centration was so complete that it was not possible to attract his attention at such times unless his arm was shaken. She smiled at Robert Cushman as he passed her. His pallor was still almost grey, the skin drawn tight and translucent upon the bones of his face. - 'Are you feeling better?' she asked, knowing that there was still something very wrong inside him. He paused, stooping kaw, rb 1'zh~s, t I world from the low deckbead. 'Thank you, I very soon will be. just a few hours more with- out that terrible movement and I shall be a new man.' He smiled back at her, adding, 'Whatever it was that you added to your excellent willow tea, and whatever it is that the Lord has entrusted to those gentle hands of yours, your help has been 39 speedily beneficial, Mistress Gardenar. I do thank you from the bottom of my heart for your care and kindness.' Becky, still smiling her thanks, watched him go, another of the Leyden community and possessing that same aura of sim- plicity and goodness. She wondered how they differed from the Puritans who were strong among lesser churchmen and scholars in England. The principles of Puritan beliefs were grudgingly accepted by the Church these days, even if they were not greatly approved, but these folks had had to flee their country in order to worship together in safety. It was not her turn in the galley and she sat, after the chil- dren had eaten and the table had been cleared, working on a shirt she was making for Richard. The needle flew in her fingers and her mind crept back to Forton as it always did when she was at peace. She wondered what Biddy would be doing at this moment and dear Wat - how would he be taking the loss of one of his charges after eighteen years of watching over their young lives. Would he marry once Biddy took a husband? She considered her youngest brother, the faithful attentive watch- dog of all their antics and escapades. His shy gruffness of speech would make him a difficult one to match. Her thoughts were interrupted by Priscilla, calling from the hatchway. 'Becky, come and take the bread from me. The food is ready and Mother wants Robert to come up and fetch it.' They gathered at the table, hungry since the sea had given them back their stomachs. There was a new cheerfulness among them all, even though this delay meant that they were still not embarked upon the voyage. The six days at sea bad weakened the most robust of them and all were eager for exercise and soon plans were being made for walks to the headland, to St Petrock - across with the ferryman to Kingswear. Richard, sitting at Becky's side, suddenly said, 'In the morning, come with me and we'll look for additions to your medicine box.' She nodded, the pleasure lighting her face, a dimple coming and going at each corner of her mouth. Poor little soul, he thought. It was no fault of hers that this nightmare pursued him each time he even glanced her way. She was beautiful ... so innocent, in a way that Biddy had never been. It was that very ingredient though, that unexpectedly extravagant passion in Biddy, which had made her an indelible part of him. He glanced at Becky's profile, busy over her supper plate, 40 head bowed and lashes lowered. The white cap hid her gleam ing curls but one small rebel had escaped and lay inviting] upon the nape of her neck. It was a clean neck, the skin cream and almost luminous. It looked soft, vulnerable - like a child's He looked away and took a deep draught of ale. There was som. sort of privacy in their little cabin and their ever clos proximity even if conversation of a private nature was limited He must try and break this impasse in himself. He had mad her some vows in the church at Alverstoke only two week before. God, it felt as though ten years had passed. He stirred from his silence and joined in the conversatio across the table. The morning brought with it a great activity. The Billingtons had decided to take lodgings, along with the Hopkins family and the Chiltons. William and Alice Mullins were afraid to dip further into their finances. Although they probably carried the most valuable cargo on board, they would have a lot to pay out initially in Jamestown and there was no knowing how long they would have to finance themselves there until the returns began to come in. The Martins moved out also, which was just as well because, once the Leyden families began to arrive from Speedwell, there would be a considerable overcrowding. Robert Cushman and his cabin mate quickly gave up their cubicle when it was realised how many families there were - and Richard was quick to offer his and Becky's also. Only three families from Speedwell took rooms in the town. Most of them had sold their houses and possessions in Leyden to pay for their fares and their share of provisions, and there was little left in most pockets. Elder Brewster with Mary, his wife, felt bound to stay with his community, to ease their integration with the non-sectarian Mayflower passengers who would almost certainly find their ways both strange and even irksome at first. With good fortune, the crowded discomfort would not be for more than a few days. Becky and Richard, after moving their belongings up on to the main deck under the overhanging Half Deck, and then helping the Speedwell people where they could, took the gig across to the town and strolled away from the quay, down wind- ing cobbled streets, gazing up at the leaning houses and flower- filled cottage* gardens. Dartmouth sprawled along the river towards the castle at St Petrock, where the path turned sharply uphill and inland. Across the river was Kingswear with its own little castle facing St Petrock. The town drowsed peacefully in the morning sun, waiting for the return of its fishing fleet from Newfoundland. They were due in the month of November, laden with the rich catches from whose profits Dartmouth was already beginning to benefit. The fine gabled houses down on New Quay were proof of the new prosperity as New Quay itself was. The little town spread and waited for the next fat dividend. They wandered, heads warmed by the morning sun, stopping to look over low garden walls and to admire the bright profusion Ir of flowers. The breeze caught and leaned against them as they left the road and followed the rutted path up to the castle. Cowslip and poppy, blue burrage and wild garlic nodded in the tall grass. Their leg muscles soon stiffened and they sat on the hillside, watching the river flowing by St Petrock below them. i~ He gave her his whole attention and talked more freely than he bad ever done since their wedding day, probing her opinions, her likes and dislikes - even the subject of her thoughts. He held her band and kept her close to him and soon took the dimity cap from her head so that the chestnut curls could blow freely. Hesitantly at first and then with increasing confidence, she told him how she and Biddy had been engaged as chamber and dairy maids at Campden House and of the day when she had been accused, so wrongly, of stealing. She had been dismissed and it was a terrible blow to have to return to the mill, disgraced and unable to get work in another household. She had doubled her attention to her father, whose faith in her remained in spite of his increasing depression and withdrawal. 'He knew I was telling the truth although he never talked of it,' she said earnestly, 'and so did Wat too, but then the house- keeper's dog died and then she took ill herself. She died suddenly and all at once they were putting the blame at my door and the rumours started about me being a witch.' She looked at Richard, half expecting him to draw away from her but he simply nodded. 'Biddy told me the whole story just after it happened,' he said. 'She was naturally very worried about the whole thing although there was never a scrap of evidence that actually involved you, was thereF She shook her head and looked again at him searchingly, frowning as she tried to see behind the smiling concern in his eyes. 'Did you ... have you married me and brought me away with you to help me out of that situation?' 42 The shy question, shot suddenly at him without warnin caught him off guard for an instant. Quickly he laughed an drew her close to him, burying his face in the mop of curls 'However noble you may think me, I'd never do a witch tha sort of favour, little goose,' he said gently. 'I do know one thin that Biddy told me about you and have already seen for mysel ... She told me of the healing you have in your hands. Don' worry, don't worry now...'as she tried to pull away from him 'That is a God made gift and I have a feeling that we are al going to have reason to owe much to these little hands befor the years age them.' Then slowly, as though he was testing bo the words and himself, 'There's only one reason why a penni less man asks a penniless girl to wed him. It's because he love and needs her.' He heard his words with shock and then a certain satisfactio and leaning his chin on her head he cuddled her up inside hi arm. They stayed very close, watching the gulls swoop ov them and rise upward at the hill's edge, to hover and bow like grey and white courtiers before a throne. They ate well on the way back to the town. Pigeon pie wi fresh marrows and potatoes baked in their jackets; freshly picked blackberries from-the hedgerows with cream poured over - all washed down with light ale so cool from the inn's cellars that the pewter tankards were pearled with moisture. Ile hills hung close about them like sentinels standing shoulder to shoulder in their summer yellows and greens. They strolled, lulled by the day and their pleasure, through the high hedged lanes towards the outskirts of the town. When the Quay opened up before them, they found it humming with activity, strewn with barrels and boxes from Speedwell's hold and noisy with indignant protests from the three goats which, feeling dry land under them again and smelling the sweet grass and new- mown hay in the air, struggled and bleated their pleas for free- dom as they jerked and chewed at their ropes. Richard and Becky sat on the sea wall and watched the little ship's crew moving the cargo into an empty warehouse across the Quay. It was interesting to see what the Leyden group had brought with them from Holland. There were firkins of Dutch butter and oil, flour, grain, soap, tallow and salt meat. There was even a printing press, dismantled and its ironware care- fully greased, There were bolts of cloth, weaving frames, spindles and cooking pots. There were guns and ammunition, boxes of beads and coloured trinkets - 'for bartering with the 43 Indians,' Richard guessed, for there were also boxes of and tracts, wood pulp, printers' ink and rolls of vell watched, fascinated that so much could come from such craft which also carried the greater load of passengers as her complement of crew. The shipwrights were busy as ants inside the bull and the leaders of the two groups stood in a straggling group on the Quay in heated discussion. The day had passed before the racing hours were noticed and twilight fell, casting violet shadows over the golden haze of the sun's dying. The passengers trickled back to the ship, refreshed and cheered by the change of air and scenery. They nodded a shy welcome as they joined the families from Leyden for the first time and were content to bend their heads over their hands as Elder Brewster gave thanks for their food. Mary Brewster and Alice Mullins quickly came together over the question of the galley. They were the senior women from the two groups, plain spoken and practical with that happy knack of reaching through the welter of problems which faced them and grasping the largest headaches first. They quickly dis- covered a pleasing compatibility and out of the chaos of that first overcrowded night, brought about a semblance of order. There was a marked difference in the general age groups as most of the Leyden families were young, apart from their deacons. There was an air of quiet reserve in them all, even the children. They had, for too long, been forced to turn inward upon themselves and it was to them a sore penance at first, to have to live and sleep in such close proximity with non- believers. The English group in their turn reacted in various ways to the sect's daily routine of work and worship. There were some who were openly impatient, though none voiced his thoughts. They quickly learned to absent themselves from the ship, preferring to eat in the town and sleep under a hedge than have to put up with constant calls to prayer. The nights, after all, were calm and warm, full of the sweet scent of fresh-mown hay. There were others who listened to Elder Brewster's morning Bibl ,in. W'eey a and evening preaching, soon interested to discover how different these fiercely humble people were in their thinking and atti- tudes to every small task of daily life. There was a general feeling of relieved surprise to discover that there was nothing terribly extreme in their teachings. True, it was odd and at first almost blasphemous to openly advocate that God was the only 44 being with the Divine Right; that the ear . thly vessels Of the e blas caker and th Church and its hierarchy were truly th prayer wasthe 3f the people; that pomp and ritual with phemy 1. shops and clearly the way to the Devil; vain P(stuTing of biing and incense burning was that and that bowing and scrav Still, these same emptation and Hell. more, the sure way to t , brewing in the minds of many for the past two ideas had beenhard the Monarchy and the Church generations, however- education of the masses sought to stamp them Out, but once the ~r f reedom of thOught5 -I.-e sown fo: began, so naturally the seeds we) Brewster's preach if not speech. What most of the listeners to a cleric with ings, found different from the sermons of many puritan leanings was the. total absence of threat and an ever it seemed to be this fine strong present abundance Of love. . so closely together, thread which held his whole congregation ~ ( groups began in accord with each Other arid with him* The tw to relax with each other. olships to form as the Dart- There would be time for frien . speedwell's mouth shipwrights had discovered gaping seams in discovered waterlogged bilges. One especially bad area was with rot, planking, soft and spongy where a two foot length of , d by in freely. it was removed an . d replace was letting the water ere Made a patch of stout, well seasoned wood. Other repairs w and finally the caullwrs and carpenters sat back, their task completed. After nine days out of the water they declared them- selves satisfied that Speedwell was sound from beak to stern and was free to continue on her way. rd -that they were sailing the Becky was relieved when she heaso filled _n. day stay in Dartmouth had been following day. The ter that she was with confusion and conflicting emotions for he wildered and even a little frightened. Richard fast becoming be' He walked Onsiderate in all things. bad been thoughtful and cIts beyond the town and their with her each day out into the hi yet there was knowledge of each other grew daily richer - and not reach. in him a void, a blockage beyond which she could I like any when they walked, arms entwine(, There were times 'ed But these Occasions were other young couple so newly 'A - ard retired into usually followed by periods of silence when Rich that mood of depression and remoteness into which she was itrude. afraid to it im when this mood was on She haol only once tried to reach h . e out on the hill over- him. They had been sitting for a long tim . behind looking the river mouth. she had watched the sun sink 45 the hills, its red-gold orb lost in a final Bash of green Pre. Richard Jay on his back beside her, staring upward as the light drew in about them and the birds sped homeward in the deep- ening twilight. His eyes gaped, unfocused - like those of a dead man, upward at nothing, unblinking. He made no reply when she spoke his name and so, for a while she had been content to stay silent. She turned to him again as the air cooled. He was a stone statue beside her, far away. She called him again gently. There was no response, no blink of an eyelid to acknowledge that she had spoken. What was the matter? Was something wrong with him? She had seen Biddy like this sometimes but that was always after she had had one of her nightmares and was doing battle with the thing that sometimes invaded her soul. Could he also be haunted in the same terrible way? She leant over and lightly felt his hand. No, there was no suggestion of the dry raging heat there. She put her lips shyly to his cheek. It was hard and cold, though she felt the breath in his chest under her own. She lay lightly against him and felt only the rejection. Unbidden, the misery welled into her throat and pricked wickedly behind her eyes. 'What have I done, Richard? Do I displease you so much that you shudder to touch me?' She buried her head in his shoulder and the tears came, stiff with the pent-up expectation and disappointment of their lives. Richard seemed to drag himself back from somewhere far away. He took her by the shoulders and held her out in front of him, searching her face with haggard despair mixed with con- cern. at the sight of her tear-smudged unhappiness. There was guilt and grief and a hard angry glare in his eyes. His hands gripped her shoulders, digging his fingers into her flesh and she felt nothing then but stared back, her need of him swelling in the pupils of her great dark eyes. He held her, eyes locked in the depth of their separate agonies - and then he let her go, putting her roughly from him and dragging himself up. He sat, his head buried in hands which clawed and dug into his scalp. 'I can't, Becky. I just can't yet.' His voice was muffled, uneven, on the edge of the same tears that coursed down her face and tore the breath from her. 'Will it always be like this then?' she whispered. Some men suffered this way, she knew. 'Will you not talk about whatever troubles you so? Please, Richard ... just tell me what is doing this to you and at least it will make things easier for me to 46 understand.' The tremor in her voice reached him and he raised his head, shaking it. 'There's nothing to talk about ... nothing I know how to explain to you. I'm sorry, Becky. It'll sort itself out in time, but just now . . . ' He looked across at her, the deepening shadows softening the utter dejection in him. They returned to the town in silence and Becky took the boat back to the ship with three of the other passengers. Richard was late returning that night, the sharp smell of stale gin and Captain Jones's tobacco fumes heavy on him. She had been long under the covers lying tense and wakeful in the shadow of the great cabin, battling against the seeds of resentment and anger which lay like a lodestone at the centre of her unhappiness. He had moved about the small area of deck space allotted to them, clumsy and befuddled. He breathed heavily, taking a long time to get his shoes off and then his overbreeches. She could hear him muttering formless words to himself as the jacket joined the pile of outer garments, and then the coverlet was pulled aside. He must have knelt there staring at her back for some time as there was no sound except for the breath coming and going from him and the sour tavern odour, strong in the still night air. Eventually he moved and lay beside her as he had done for the past seventeen nights - turned away as she was from him ... and slept instantly. She had lain and let her mind travel, seeking any subject except the one which tore at her at every turning. Whatever happened, the power must not reach this anger and resentment in her, for there was something in Richard that was cutting him to pieces but was not of his making. He was a good man and would make a fine husband, the colour of his light showed that. She must not risk hurting him, at any rate, not until she had discovered what it was that froze him up in this way. They were going to need each other's love and strength in the months ahead of them, for Jamestown was primitive, isolated and under constant threat of attack, both from sickness and savages. As the last thought idled across her mind, she paused and examined it more closely. What had been said about those Indians? There had been plenty of talk on the subject among the passengers, once they began to recover from the sea- sickness. She had only half listened to the tales of awful hap- penings at the hands of the Guiana Indians. Maria Martin had been the one with all the details. They had murdered their victims by the slowest possible means, taking the hair from 47 their beads and the flesh also, so that the poor wretches, though living in terrible agony, were yet skiDDed alive 17S one wotild skin a rabbit. They had hacked their testicles, cooking and,devouring them before finally gouging their eyeballs from their sockets and throwing them to their hunting dogs. As the stor; es leapt into her memory and she cowered, shivering at the hideous details, something stirred far back in her consciousness, indistinct, formless. She reached out towards it for there was some significance in its presence, but it hung too far back for her to grasp it. She thrust everything out of the way and the tremor was in her, the power strong enough to span great distances - but still she couldn't reach the waiting, elemental thing. It was too distant for her even to retain 0, a suggestion of its nature. She withdrew, puzzled and exhausted. On reflection, there had been a glimmer of this same thing on two previous occasions as she hung between sleep and waking. Both had been after the ship had left Southampton. There was a vague impression of moving towards something. It would be clearer as time went bv. She slept, feeling arained save for the weariness of spirit to which these flexings of the power reduced her. Movement ceased on board, save for the glimmer of the bobbing, riding light up in the shrouds. The Dart moved blackly silently on its way past to the sea, the current chuckling smugly as it fussed round Mayflower's weathered timbers. A cloud stole across the moon and the town withdrew into darkness. CHAPTER THREE Speedwell took back her passengers and cargo and a crowd of townsfolk gathered to wish the two ships God's speed. There was further embarrassment over the cost of Speedwell's repairs, and it took Elder Brews-ter's integrity and John Carver's dip- lomatic skill to persuade the chandlers and shipwrights; to accept merchandise in lieu of payment. Mar-tin, jowls scarlet with embarrassment and indignation, had attempted to solicit 48 4 some help from the London shareholders, only to be curtly refused and informed that no further funds would be forth- coming from them, whatever the circumstances. Furious ai this treatment, he formally washed his hands of any responsibility to London and contented himself with upbraiding both the Leyden group and Captain Reynolds for their foolish decision to buy so small and unsuitable a ship. The decks of both ships were crowded with passengers. They lined the sides as they slipped down the broadly curving river, watching the little knot of waving people dwindle in the morningis early light. It was August 23rd. Speedwell led the way, jaunty and prancing, as though the break had cured her weariness and left her bursting with new vigour. Her sails filled and she leaned into the'wind. Chris- topher Jones studied her as they drew level. He frowned with the same feeling of dissatisfaction that came over him when- ever he gave his attention to her. The sails had been re-rigged, and her crew was busy even now, making fast, trimming, tightening. He could just hear Reynold's voice bellowing across the ever widening gap between them as Mayflower pulled ahead and settled on her course. The sea had lost its heavy undertow and wild disturbance that had marked their passage from the Solent. It breathed and sighed about them, lazily rocking them with the passing of each undulating roller. It was not long, however, before it was noticed that Speedwell's action was becoming awkward and ungainly, even on this bright day when a light breeze ushered them before it in fine style. The little ship rolled drunkenly, shifting in the troughs before each wave in a painful, corkscrewing motion. The following wave would, lift her upwards to teeter breathlessly on its curling crest before plunging her down into the next trough. Robert Cushman began to feel deathly ill again. He made himself sit quietly on deck, trying to focus his attention on anything but the movement of the ship. He scratched away at his diary, trying to ignore the increasing waves of nausea which thr~atened to send him rushing for the ship's side. ' . . . Poor William Ring and myself,' be wrote shakily. 'We do strive who shall be meat first for the fishes! The floating ache in his stomach twisted into uncontrollable spasms of retching. He gave himself up to the awfulness of his predicament and prayed for oblivion. Many of the other passengers also succumbed, but the day was fine and bracing and some discovered that by staying up 49 I ~ on deck and trying to doze in the clear air, they eased the sickness and soon improved. All the same, it was an uncomf ort- able first day and night although the ships were making excel- lent progress, surging along like paper curls on the shifting wind. Becky and Priscilla divided their time between the galley, tending the sick and anxiously following the progress of Speed- well. By the second day, it became clear, even to their inexperienced eyes that she was not moving at all well, the swell sometimes hiding her so that at times, all they could see of her were the tops of her masts. As the second day drew in and the sun dipped on its lemming way over the. horizon, Reynolds signalled Mayflower and they went about once more. 'It's no good, I'm still making more sea than I can pump out! 'Where is she taking it in? Do you want another pump if I can get it across to you?' Jones was angry, worried ... com- pletely exasperated with the situation. 'It's no good, I tell you. The water's pouring in now. If we run against a squall during the night, I wouldn't bet on our chances of survival.' The listening passengers stirred in alarm. They strained to catch sight of Speedwell's people, but nearly all were overcome with the ship's laboured gyrations. The anger creased Jones's impassive granite face, but he simply shouted, 'I've got two carpenters on this ship and woodsmen among my passengers. Shall I send them over to see what's amiss? There can't be much after the going over she's just had.' CI tell you, the seams are all working. The whole hull seems near to opening up. We'll have to ran for Plymouth or she'll sink . . . ' The passengers from both ships murmured their dismay and alarm to hear such words from the captain. The little ship did indeed seem to be in danger of sinking. She was too low in the water for comfort so that even the present light sea was breaking across her deck at times and it appeared that she had a slight list to port. The sun'sank, streaking the horizon with ugly red smears. Layers of purple night cloud spread, heavy with the threat of rain. The evening breeze turned chilly, shifting again and heightening the clamour and flap of sails and shrouds. Little knots of men and women gathered to listen to the two captains roaring their orders as the crews leapt to the jeers, and the two ships turned slowly towards that distant smudge of land that was still England. Devout or not, they crossed themselves and prayed for the little 50 hold together until they made harbour. Constanta Hopkins wept. She had made friends with Sarah and Francis Eaton and their baby son Samuel. There were so many good and kindly people on the Speedwell. How could God see fit to threaten such devout followers, especially after they had been through so much on His behalf already? Elizabeth, her own tears not far off, did her best to soothe and comfort her. What an emotional child this one was, she thought. So quick to weep for sadness or for joy. 'We're not far from land, are we?' she said, injecting a light confidence into her voice that she didn't feel. 'Look, my love, the coast is only over there, you can see some lights twinkling already. Should Speedwell founder, and I'm sure that they wouldn't allow such a thing to happen, we would certainly bring all the people across to Mayflower in the boats. Now you see for your- self . . . she is making good progress behind us and we are there with her to give encouragement to everyone.' The night held little comfort or sleep for anyone. On Speed- well, the Leyden passengers struggled with their sickness and prayed quietly among themselves. They huddled in close family groups, seeking in the physical closeness of each other an extra thread of courage and faith. They listened to the pain of Speedwell's' labouring, the timbers groaning and creaking as her framework shifted under the burden of sail. William Brewster dozed, the small weight of his youngest son Wrestling, light in his lap. The child shivered and burrowed into his father's jacket to shut out the sounds of the ship's suffering. In the moonless night hours the two ships crept painfully along the rugged Cornish coast. Mayflower bad been bedecked with lanterns to give cheer to those on Speedwell and she skirted the little ship, sometimes leading, at others sailing parallel with her. The threatened rain didn't materialise excep for a few drops just as a watery dawn rent the cloak of night It was a relief to return to the light and to see her dipping an~ rolling still, low in a sullen grey sea but still making headway The two ships sailed close and breathed a prayer of thankful ness as jaws of land encompassing Plymouth Sound began t ,41ip to close about them. They sailed slowly in past Cawsand and S Nicholas, passed below the Hoe, and rode wearily in betweer the two forts and Fishers Nose - into the harbour basin. Tension eased on board Speedwell as she secured in Suttor Pool. There was an immediate meeting of the two passenge committees - again without Cushman, as neither Becky' 51 medicaments nor the attention of Mayflower's young surge Giles Heal, could help his sickness. He lay scarcely breathi upon his bunk, his face livid and sunk against his check bones But for the slight movement of his chest, he might have been' taken for dead. Marie Martin and Mistress Mullins took turns in sitting with him when Becky was called to Elizabeth Hop- kins who had been taken ill as they sailed into the Sound. The children were sent to see that Speedwell's passengers were in good heart after their ordeal, and Stephen stayed with Elizabeth while Becky pored over her medicine book and decided what was best for her to take in her present condition. 'Flowers of lavender, mixed with cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves, ground to powder and given to drink in hot water - slows the heart beat, stops giddiness and palsie, grief to the head and comfort to the brain . . . ' To the sweet smelling infusion she added a root of Asara- bacca since, because of the pregnancy, foxglove must not be used. Elizabeth was in pain. The child had begun to twist and writhe inside her, making her gasp and the perspiration stand out on her forehead as the nerves of her back and stomach were jerked and pinched. Becky sat with her and gently put a hand on her taut stomach as the child turned again strongly beneath her outspread fingers. She urged Elizabeth to drink the con- coction she had made and gave her attention to the unborn child, massaginj lightly with soothing circular movements. Slowly, the spasms eased, but Becky continued her feather- light movements, murmuring to the unborn child under her breath. Stephen Hopkins watched, intrigued. Elizabeth, her pain eased, allowed the herb broth to lull her into a light doze and Becky's gentle hands soothed the aching muscles of her bruised abdomen. She seemed to be crooning to the child, almost as though she were comforting a babe already born. The minutes ticked by and, very slowly, the tension went from Elizabeth. When it was clear that the alarm was past, Stephen gently removed his hand from his wife's clasp and rose stiffly to his feet. Becky looked up smiling, her great brown eyes lit with tenderness. 'He'll be all right now,' she said softly. 'He was just upset by his mother's concern for those on Speedwell through the night.' 52 Stephen smiled back indulgently. 'You seem to be on very close terms with our infant, even though Mother and Father have not yet been introduced. Why, you are even committing it to a gender. What will you say when a sister for Damaris appears instead?'he said teasingly. She put her head on one side and then shook it firmly. 'Oh no, please rest assured that you have a fine little son there. An the signs point to the certainty of that.' He gave her a quizzical, affectionate look and ushered her out of the cubicle, letting the sacking curtain fall behind them. 'Well, whatever the old wives' tales tell you about such things,' he said, giving her arm a little squeeze, 'I must thank you for doing so much to ease Elizabeth's trouble. You are very gifted with your herbal remedies and those gentle little hands of yours, Becky, and we are much in your debt. I quite thought that her time had come and that we were in for more problems.' Becky nodded. 'I know that she is concerned about the close- ness of the baby's expected arrival and our continued delays. I do think that she will give birth sooner than the date she mentioned, especially as all these disturbing incidents upset her so. Please don't worry,' at Stephen's look of concern. 'Don't forget that we have Surgeon Heal to call upon and Mistress Mullins also. She is a most experienced lady in these matters, so Priscilla tells me. As a last resort, there is me too.' She grinned, cheeks dimpling, and a curl slid on to her check to be banished by an absent-minded finger. She left him, climbed carefully down the rope ladder and hopped on to the granite steps of the quay. Richard was nowhere to be seen, but the whole place was busy about its daily occupations, and word of their arrival was already making them a focus of attention. William Brewster detached himself from the group of argu- ing men and paced slowly along the quay, head down, hands behind his back, deep'in thought. There seemed no end to the problems which beset them and it was becoming clear that Speedwell would continue to be the beam in their eye. Worse, it appeared that she was not, after all, properly seaworthy in her present condition, and there was no more money for any more repairs. The unshakeable faith which had long been the main- stay of his community began to weaken as doubts assailed him. Were they being shown that this was not, after all, the right path for them to take? Had the Lord decreed that they should travel no further than this sprawling West country city, strong- 53 hold of Protestantism? Maybe, after all, they would do well to seek that elusive freedom right here in this fiercely independent wedge of England ... ? The two ships already carried a weight of doubts and sickness with them, and his own heart was too full of uneasiness and foreboding to be able to give comfort to those who sought his reassurance. The lines iri his forehead deepened and his broad shoulders sagged as one argument after another raced through his mind. He turned and slowly retraced his steps, oblivious to everything until Martin hurried up to him, his round red face glistening in the summer air. 'Mr Brewster, two families have decided to leave the ship here at Plymouth and return to their homes.' His jowls shook like an enraged turkey cock. 'If some leave us here, then others will certainly follow, until we finish with no passengers at all. I simply cannot accept any more of these unforgivable delays ... we) re already too late to have the benefit of a summer cross- ing and will undoubtedly face great odds before the other side is reached. There is simply no pardoning this sort of incom- petence, Mr Brewster. It is unsupportable . . . inexcusable . . . ' Words failed him and he subsided into a series of puffing grunts, his small button eyes blinking angrily. Brewster looked at him quietly, like a patient schoolmaster contemplating a troublesome pupil. Martin shifted under the look and stuck his hand in his breeches pockets. 'I find it less alarming to lose two families to Plymouth at this stage, Mr Martin, than to risk the possibility of losing a whole ship and the lives of all aboard her,' Brewster said mildly. 'We will discover Speedwell's fault and then make careful decisions. Until then, I fear that you must try to be patient. Your worries, after all, are the worries of every one of us.' Martin stared at him helplessly, then turned and walked away, anger still shaking his jowls. They were completely un- worldly, these people - impossible to do business with. They appeared to be incapable of facing hard facts. The wretched Speedwell was simply unseaworthy and no amount of patch- ing would alter the situation. He went muttering over the cobbles and away from the Pool into the town, intent on making contact with Thomas Purdy who was not only a useful merchant to count as a friend, but also his mother's brother. He would try, through his uncle, to seek the assistance of the Plymouth Com- pany who had sent their own group of settlers to America. True, that was thirty-five years ago and the whole population of Roanoke perished. Still, they might be persuaded to extend 54 their assistance, since it was clear that London would not lift a finger to help. The passengers from the two ships merged, happy to meet after the ordeal of the previous night. They exchanged their doubts and fear, their confidence thoroughly shaken in the little Speedwell. They noticed each other's pinched faces and crumpled clothes and wondered what the Plymouth folk would think of th~s crowd of white faced, dishevelled travellers, who had already, in some cases, been journeying for a month and were still trying to set off across the vast Atlantic Ocean. The harbour was busy with bum boats ferrying passengers and crew to and from their moorings when Becky returned to Mayflower to look at her patients and to wait for Richard. There were few passengers on board apart from the crew, save those who still suffered from the journey. The children were on the quay, playing tig in the sunshine or prowling happily among the mountains of merchandise awaiting the great ships from France and Spain. Becky busied herself about their cabin, tidying the bunk and sorting out the soiled linen to wash as soon as fresh water was available. She peeped through Cush- man's curtain and found him dozing, deathly pale but able to return her greeting. 'Why is the ship so still? Are we hove to?' he asked. She curled up on the end of his mattress and watched his struggle between dismay, and relief as she recounted Speed- well's struggle through the night. 'I think that I was not made to leave the land,' he said sadly, with a faint smile. 'My family and I had such hopes for the outcome of this voyage and for the future of our community, but I think that I might not survive many more days of this debility and then I would be less than useless to my dependants.' Becky nodded sympathetically, agreeing wholeheartedly with him, for he certainly seemed to have little more than a fragile hold upon life at this time. How he would fare after another week at sea, let alone a month or more, she dared not speculate. 'There are a few passengers who have decided to leave us and return to dair homes,' she said. 'Your friend, Will Ring, is on his way to JR post office at this moment ' to book his seat on the London stage for Thursday - and the Worrell family; all seven of them are looking for lodgings in the town and will send for their effects before Mayflower leaves. I even heard one of your Leyden people talking, and it appears that there are some on Speedwell who are abandoning their journey here also.' 56 His spirits sank for them. 'And they will have lost every- thing,' he murmured, almost to himself. 'Their houses, their jobs in Leyden, even the money to return there . . . every man has given his last possession to find the finance for this venture - and even then there was not enough and we had to turn to good people like yourself to take passage with us.' He seemed about to try to raise himself up on an elbow but Becky pressed him back into the pillows. 'You must not leave your bed,' she said firmly. 'Mr Brewster and Mr Carver are coming to see you later on, when they have made all the arrangements for Speedwell. You are much too weak to support yourself or to think of leaving the ship yet. Now, let me get you something to settle you and give you a little strength. Then you must rest and allow it to do its work.' He offered no further protest but faintly smiled his thanks. 'You have given so much help to me and to many others too,' he said, his red-rinimed eyes moist in their gratitude. 'How sad we will be to lose you when Jamestown is reached.' 'I am finding quite a few friends already among those of us who will stay there. It will be a great comfort to know some good companions among all the strangers.' She made an infusion of stickwort root in boiled wine, to- gether with acorn and saffron powder, stirred it over the small stove in the 'tween decks with a spoonful of honey, and hurried back to Cushman as she recognised Richard's footfall on the deck above. She was blowing the brew gently when he put his head round the curtain and greeted them. 'There you are,' he said to Becky, after enquiring into Cush- man's progress. 'I've been with Mr Pargeter of the Harbour Office here. He used to be in Portsmouth when I started my apprenticeship and be and his lady have kindly invited us to lodge with them until we sail.' Becky stared at him, her eyes shining. She smiled un- certainly. 'That was very civil of him. It will be a wonderful treat. What is the latest news on Speedwell though? Mr Cush- man has been asking and I have no news to give him.' Richard leaned against the door jamb, hands in pockets. 'They're unloading her now and that will take until tomorrow to complete. After that, she's to be beached on the bank beyond the East Gate where they can examine her properly. It's Christopher Jones's view that she's overmasted with the addi- tions made to her masts in Delftshaven; so with too much sail for her size, her timbers are unable to take the strain and start working. He says she was a perfectly tight little ship before the alterations were made, as he has seen her about in the ports.' Cushman had been sipping his tea and now lay back, content to listen to Richard's and Becky's voices. They stayed in his cubicle until he sank into a doze. When his breathing had become regular, eyes closed, they left him and went to their own little cabin to gather some clothes and essentials for a few nights in a proper household once more. The breeze teased a pink glow into Becky's cheeks as the gig bobbed and jerked its way across the harbour. They sat huddled together on the spray-wet seat, watching the boat- man's skill as he wove them in and out and round the towering merchantmen, riding tall and proud at their rusting anchor chains. 'Sam Pargeter is quite a character, I must warn you,'Richard said. 'He holds little truck with any form of Popery and seems to have met some of our Leyden friends before ... in Amster- dam, I think. He was telling me how strong an element of Protestantism there is in this part of England. It is openly preached in the churches much more than in other places. I think he is under the impression that we are part of the other group, for he asked to be introduced to Mr Brewster whom be has heard preaching ... says what a fine sermon he puts across too.' 'Well, the one we attended that first Sunday in Dartmouth had me listening to every word,' Becky agreed. They had been impressed by Brewster's comfortable command of his subject, great stirring eloquence of words, so simple in message but rich in debate, and sincerity. He had held the attention of every listener that day, dissenters and all, and they had left his pres- ence feeling the better for listening. .'The parson at Forton was Protestant drawn too,' she remem- bered, recalling the length of his tedious rhetoric. 'Biddy and I couldn't abide the sight or sound of him with his dismal threats of hell fire and eternal damnation - only to put a hand to our behinds after church when our marn and father said their good days to him! 'I don't get the feeling that old Brewster will give you that sort of trouble,' Richard said, a twinkle lighting his eyes. 'Robert Cushman now, I wonder how sick he really is? Not too ill to lay an appreciative hand to such a pretty nurse, alone on the ship together! 'Ali, well that's something you must just guess at, mustn't 57 you?' Becky said innocently, smoothing her brown skirt with small strong hands. 'He's a fine good man, that's for sure, and a body needs some attention.' As soon as the words were out of her mouth she bitterly regretted them. Richard's friendly twinkle vanished as though a candle bad been snuffed inside and be looked at her for an instant and turned away, but not before she had seen the hurt and wretchedness that lay in them. 'I was only jossing you, Richard,' she said quickly. 'He's a very sick man really and would not, in any case, harbour those thoughts ... any more than I would.' They rode in silence and were glad when the gig bumped against the jetty wall and they were able to climb out on to the granite stairs. Richard tucked their bundle of clothing under his arm and helped her up the steps and they made their way along the quay to the Harbour Office. Samuel Pargeter hurried round from his cluttered desk as they came through the door. His welcome was both warming and delighted, and it was quickly apparent that he was a keen appreciator of the fair sex and had hardly expected Richard's new wife to be such a comely creature. Pleasure and excitement bubbling from him, he bowed low and made it plain that the first sight of young Mistress Gardenar was a joy indeed. 'You must be weary after having such a tedious time,' be said, fussing round them and managing to tread on Richard's foot, knocking their bundle off the table where Richard had placed it - and on picking it up with little explosions of apology' scattering half a year's invoices over the floor. Tutting and clicking at his own clumsiness, he propelled them out of the door, round a corner, and into a narrow street full of new, half-timbered houses. The sun slanted across the cobbles, slash- ing the afternoon shadow with bands of shimmering gold and his conversation flowed round them as he bobbed and bounced at their side. 'We were most fortunate to come to Plymouth from the Portsmouth yards. They had just completed three new streets of dwelling houses in this area and we were able to acquire one in this lane ... so very convenient for the office and the warehouses, as you see. Mary finds it close to the markets and warm enough for her taste in winter. Really, she will make you most welcome . . . we beard about the plans of the Leyden people some months ago, of course . . . there are few who haven't discussed the subject at length here in Plymouth. It is 58 a topic that fills all Devon hearts with sorrow, you know, as there is scarce a local family that didn't lose someone in our own ill-fated venture at settlement. Your party will find plenty of well wishers here, and I lay you a bet that not one of your number will be short of hospitality for long...' They stopped as Samuel suddenly darted in front of them and sprang up three steps to hammer at the knocker on his front door. They were clearly expected for it was quickly opened and he bounded in, nodding and beckoning to them, the smile of welcome on his cherubic face reaching almost to his ears. A shy servant girl bobbed to them as they passed her and quickly closed the door behind them, Samuel banded her the bundle of their clothes and ushered them ahead of him across an airy hall and into the parlour. At first it appeared to be empty except for a quantity of large, overstuffed chairs, heavy tables, bookcases and tiny embroidered footstools. Then, as he continued his speech of welcome, a very small figure rose from the high wing chair that had hidden it and came towards them with arms outstretched. 'Richard ... my dear, dear boy ... what a lovely surprise this is ... and with a darling bride too ... how lucky we are ... we had no idea that you were on Mayflower.' She stood on the tips of her neat little toes and endeavoured to hug Richard soundly, a practice he was obviously used to as he bent down, picked her up, and suffered himself to be kissed on each cheek, forehead, nose - and then be set her down and stood grinning at her, hair rumpled and cravat awry, like a delighted schoolboy. Mistress Pargeter turned after a final joyous moan, clasped Becky's hand tightly in her own, and stood back with little cries of delight and approval before enveloping her in plump, dimpled arms. 'Oh, how beautiful she is, Richard, how mannerly. What a charming choice you have made.' She made them sit and, settling into the highbacked chair from which she had sprung, began to ply them with questions. Samuel interrupted, his own stream of speech having been channelled into giving the little maid instructions for refresh- ments. He came and leaned across his wife's chair. 'I must ,return to my ledgers for an hour or two but Mary will make all arrangements for your comfort, won't you, my love? ... and then you will have to repeat all that Mary has gleaned from you when I get back.' He kissed her on the top of her fine lace cap and knocked a table over as he went to the door. He stopped with a tragically guilty glance over his shoulder 59 and picked it up, tutting to himself as he set it back on its dainty tripod legs - and was gone, closing the door smartly behind him. Mary Pargeter sighed and raised her eyes to heaven in mock exasperation. 'I never met a clumsier man in all my life,' she said. 'There's hardly a day goes by that he doesn't trip over something or someone, or spill his soup or break a china plate. I sometimes feel that his eyesight is not as good as it should be but, of course, he won't allow such a suggestion. Also, I vow that Samuel must have the keenest sight in Plymouth when it comes to spotting a comely wench.' She dimpled at Becky and then across at Richard. She was no longer young, in her early forties, but tiny in stature and pleasingly plump without a suggestion of stoutness. Her dimity cap was of extra fine lace on lawn through which her corn coloured hair gleamed. She wore it long, plaited and folded in a shining coil in the nape of her neck. Her peach-smooth face shone, both with the joy of their presence and the happiness of her very nature. Bright, mischievous grey eyes darted from Becky to Richard and back as she plied them with questions and they gamely struggled to answer her. It was apparent that she adored Richard. Tea was brought in on a groaning tray, the little maid puffing under its weight. Scones and home-baked cakes. Hams, savouries -'This little snack will just ease your hunger until dinner. You must be sorely missing the sort of food that comes from a proper kitchen.' She fussed over the tea, pressing one appetising delicacy after another on them. They needed little encourage- ment and set to with a will, the hard tack and heavy salted meat of their ship diet palling before such a feast. There was so much to tell, it seemed, but they were soon being ushered up the wide oak staircase and shown into their sleeping chamber where, to Richard's delight, a great shining copper hip bath stood, water steaming in it with hot and cold kettles beside it, wrapped in heavy damask towels. There was a jar on the dressing-table, filled with crystals of lavender soda - and their clothes were laid out, freshly pressed, on the cover- let of the great four-poster bed. Becky looked about her with wide eyes. This, she thought must be the most perfect room she had ever been in, far more beautiful than the finest room at Campden House. It was large and light with casements extending into two bays and taking up the whole of one side of the room. The dressing-table stood 60 at an angle in one of the bays, the better to catch the daylight, its large oval mirror flanked by candlesticks of gleaming cop- per. The great bed was curtained in a fine pale green silk, the cover embroidered with clusters of delicate flowers on the same material. Everywhere the woodwork shone, from the freshly waxed floor, panelled walls, to the mirrorlike sheen on chests and tables. 'Oh, Richard,' she said, delight in her voice. 'What a lovely friendly room ... and what wonderful people Mary and Samuel are.' She looked down at her clothes, suddenly aware of their shabbiness in all this sparkling cleanliness. He, seeing the look, put out a hand and drew her to him. 'We'll feel a lot better after cleaning ourselves up and putting on some clothes that at least look fresh,' he said, giving her a little hug. 'Richard, I promise I was only teasing you out there in the boat,' she said anxiously, eager to clear up the little gaffe while be was still in this gentle, more receptive mood. 'I know, I know. It's because you were so right that it struck home harder than was meant. I'm a churlish moron, I know. I do appreciate how lucky I am to have you for my wife, Becky, and you have been gentle and kindness itself over my moods.' For the first time since the day of their wedding, he kissed her on the mouth - lightly, hesitantly, but with a little linger which promised more. His mouth was firm, warm - with the salt tang of the sea. He needed to shave but she was glad to feel the rough scratch of him against her skin. Afternoon sunshine streamed across the room, little particles of golden dust dancing up its path. The copper bath glowed and steamed invitingly, and she eyed it as he drew away from her, wondering how a girl retained her modesty while hoping that her husband would wash her back. ~ 'Will you have first dip or shall I? she said, moving from him to pick up the lavender salts. They smelt deliciously clean and astringent, and she tossed first one and then another hand- ful into the hot water, sniffing the scented steam as it rose in fragrant curls into the sun. 'You have the first bath and I'll come after as I'm certainly a great deal dirtier than you.' He untied the bow beneath her chin so that the russet curls fell free. He went and sat in the window, looking down on to the garden which stretched out below them between its dividing walls. As she carefully removed her collar and cuffs and then 61 I her overdress, she glanced at him timidly, but be was watching the antics of three children on the lawn below and giving her little snippets of details he remembered of them. She poured water from the cold kettle into the tub and swished it about until the first heat was gone. She took off her shoes, brushing at the whitened stains on the uppers where the sea had already left its mark, stripped off her thick wool stockings,.glad to feel her legs free of them. They had never wom thick hose in the summer at home, but the air was treacherous at sea, so they said, and her winter hose would certainly be the ones to wear. How good it was to be peeling off the layers of salt-stiffened clothing, to allow her skin to breathe in the air for the first time since she had left Forton. She slipped out of her shift and crept into the scented water. Richard sat on the white linen window seat, sunshine warm- ing his head. The house and its happy owners were beginning to unwind the knot of tension and misery that had been grow- mg, rather than abating, with every passing day. He ventured a quick look into the sun dappled room. Becky lay back in the hip bath, knees bent in soda clouded water, gossamer threads of steam curling up under her breasts. She lay with her head back, eyes closed, a small smile of perfect contentment on her perfectly shaped mouth. He looked at her for a long time. The curve of her forehead, little curls beginning to stick to it in spikes where the steam dampened and darkened their chestnut lustre. The amazing length of her lashes, lying dark and de- murely upon magnolia smooth cheeks - colour heightened as she felt his scrutiny. The proud column of her neck, milk white shoulders and breasts, rosy ruppled in the water's beat. He felt a sudden longing to put them to his lips and tease them into firmness with his tongue. She opened her eyes, catching the look on his face before there was time to wipe it clear. She settled in the water so that it lapped her chin and shoulders and then sat up, dripping and steaming and stretched out to- wards the flannel and soap dish. They were just beyond her reach and Richard left the window seat and gave them to her. 'Becky,' he said humbly, squatting beside her, 'you are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen in a bath.' They laughed at each other, and he sat down beside her watching as she soaped herself with increasing confidence. 'Would you put some on my back?' She had finally said it - and it didn't sound too contrived after all. At any rate, he was quick to take off his jacket, roll 62 up his shirt sleeves, and take the soap and cloth from her. She sat very straight, the curve of her breasts pressed tightly into clean pink knees. He rubbed the soap vigorously on to the flannel and began to swab her back. Then he soaped his hands and gentled them across her shoulders and neck, working slowly in small circles between her shoulder blades and out- wards, then down into the sharp curve of her waist. 'How am I doing?' he asked in her ear. 'I'm not used to bathing ladies.' The chestnut curls nodded from their perch on her knees. 'Mmmm ... wonderful ... you're making me go to sleep.' That was not, he thought, the effect it was having on him. The soapy circles progressed gently upwards, over her rib cage and under her arms until his fingers curled smoothly round each small. full breast. They softly kneaded until they held each nipple between finger and thumb. They were no longer soft but firm and upstanding, like ripened raspberries. He felt the heat begin to pulse in him. She turned her head, offering her mouth.' It was full and warm and the tremor in her answered his own. He drew back ... planted a damp kiss on the tip of her nose and rose hastily to his feet. 'Hey, you little hussy. Stop that or you'll have me climbing into the tub there with you,' be said gruffly. She looked at his flushed face as he turned away from her and returned to the safety of his window seat and thought, 'I can reach him after all . . . it will be all right now.' 'Sorry,' she said aloud. 'It was just a small reward for kind favours.' She picked up a towel and, standing, wrapped it round her- self before stepping out on to the soft white goatskin rug which covered much of the polished floor. She rubbed herself until the skin tingled and her blood raced and then, white-draped, poured the hot water into the bath, adding freshness to the cooling but sweet smelling water. 'There you are,' she announced, sitting back satisfied. 'Your turn, and it's a] I nice and hot again.' She sat on the bed and slipped her clean shift over her head as Richard kicked off shoes and hose, shirt and breeches, and sank down into the welcome depths of the tub with a contented groan. She dressed slowly, watching him splash and scrub the time from his body. She had not deliberately watched a man undress and bathe before although, with five older brothers, the bath nights of her childhood had left few surprises. She had thought, since he was unusually tall, that he would be 63 lean, even downright boney, but his body was well covered, shoulders strongly muscled, and chest broad, with a fine cover- ing of dark curling hair. His stomach was flat, buttocks small and well rounded. He scrubbed himself cheerfully - head and all, splashing the soapy water over the sides of the bath and drenching the goatskin. Becky pulled on a gown of soft hazy blue, cut rather lower than was worn by day, tacked her best lace kerchief round her shoulders, and pinned the ends in front with the little gold and agate brooch that Richard had given her on their wedding day. Its colours matched her hair, the brown lights in its marbled face echoing her gleaming curls. She did her hair with care, arranging it so that the curls hung in small ringlets on either side of her face. No dimity cap would be wom this evening. They were dressed, refreshed, and sitting in the window looking at each other with shy approval when the maid knocked on their door to tell them that the household would be dining shortly. The sun had gone, slipping quietly behind the chimney pots as they went downstairs to join their hosts and meet the three lively children. It was a noisy, happy evening. Both Mary and Samuel talked incessantly, interrupting each other and contradicting in a cajoling, good natured way while the children ate quietly. The food was abundant, pork and apples, stuffed with liver and herbs and followed by plum pudding with clotted cream and spicy nuggets of sugared ginger brought from the Indies. The children left them after they bad all bowed their heads in thanks for the meal, and Becky followed Mary back into the parlour where the lamps had been lit, giving the room the look of a warm, glowing cave. Pale yellow curtains had been drawn across the windows to shut out the night air. Mary's high- backed chair was covered in scarlet tapestry into which white and yellow chrysanthemums had been worked. They sat in the soft candlelight and talked in low voices, companionable and at ease while Richard and Samuel gossiped over their port in the dining-room. It was late by the time they came together again and rose to say good-night. Candlesticks waited for them in the darkened hall to light their way to their room. The hip bath and drenched goatski]n had been removed and the floor was now covered with a soft green and white wool rug. Becky, removing her hose once more, nestled her toes into its thick loops con- 64 tentedly as she took off her shift and put her nightgown over her head. 'Look,' she said to Richard, her eyes sparkling as they had had little chance of doing before. 'This was to have been my wedding nightgown, but there has been no chance to wear it until now. I started making it when I was ten years old and only finished it a few month ago.' She didn't mention that Biddy too had been working on a similar work of art. Somehow this evening belonged to the two of them and there was no place for anyone else. She twirled round before him, making the candles dance and gutter, the fine creamy cotton billowing away from her, and then, as though she had been lacking in modesty to pose so, hopped into the great bed and pulled the covers up around her. The maid had turned the covers over with care, and Richard, clothes flung in a pile on the floor, climbed in on his side and settled down sighing and turning to her. She reached over and snuffed her candle out, then sank into the pillows beside him, her blood beginning to race. Every fibre of her body was aware of him by her side and the difference between this night and the ones that had gone before. He leaned over and took her hand and kissed it, turning it over and stroking the small strong fingers before drawing her to him. 'Are you cold?' She shook her bead. 'Then take it off. It will look the most elegant nightdress in Plymouth in the morning when the maid comes in - but you are most beautiful of all the way the Lord made you.' She sat up slowly and pulled the gown over her head, feeling him against her, the warmth of his body pressed along her thigh. She had not missed the heart-warming fact that when he had stripped for his tub, it was obvious that she had at last awakened his interest. It was also abundantly clear now that he had remained roused. 'Richard,' she said suddenly, momentary confusion dampen- ing the elation and excitement that swept through her, sending the nerve ends flickering like marsh lights through her body. 'I'venever...' 'I know ... love ... and I shall be gentle The nights became the time she lived. The days were sparkling threads, simply separating one long period of high-keyed sen 65 I sation from the last. They slept only to generate eme've' 'o the hours of wakefulness, when the thrust of Rilard's hunge for her seemed insatiable. There were times when he wa mfinitely gentle, almost reverent, when he wandered wid fingers and lips over the contours of her - featherlight, nervi tingling contact. He lovedthese long, almost lazy meanderings and the candles remained lit when this mood was with him so that he might study the perfection of her with a humilitj which amounted to awe. There were other times though, when his impatience for he filled the day and he took her with fierce passion, almost anger, returning again and again as though there was no real fulfil- ment. The candles stayed unlit on those nights for the sight of her flushed face, the mellow light gleaming on the creamy tex- ture of breast, stomach, seemed only to lash him into an almost nerveless frenzy from which she would emerge bruised and shaken . . . and he himself full of apology and contrition. It mattered not at all that they had seen little of their voyage companions, as they were more than content to remain in the comfortable atmosphere of the Pargeter house - and Samuel and Mary, being possessed of excellent intuition, had quickly summed up the situation and were delighted to encourage the Lord's will and help these two young people to make the most of the unexpected privacy he had bestowed upon them. It was with some surprise that Richard learned that Speed- well was to be abandoned and the voyage continued by May- flower without the benefit of an escort. Samuel had heard this from the Reverend Tbadeus Maynard, who had opened his large house to all those voyagers who had not already found willing hosts in the town. Richard, in some alarm, sought out Christopher Martin and learned from him that nothing very serious had been found wrong with the little ship except that more of her timbers had worked loose and, with her present rigging, a long journey so late in the year was now strongly advised against. Accordingly, there had been dismay and heated arguments over the overcrowding situation which must inevitably arise on Mayflower. Still, some twenty passengers bad decided to withdraw, including Robert Cushman, whose illness was obviously more than just travel sickness. Stores were being squeezed into the larger ship's hold, the dismantled printing press, furniture, livestock - and somehow, one hundred and two passengers and Mayflower's crew of twenty-eight men. Mary and Samuel shook their heads in horror. 66 'Ies bad enough to think of you all embarking so late in the year when all our seasoned fishermen and merchant ships are on their way home now, well ahead of the bad winter weather,' Samuel confided in Richard, his concern creasing the smooth surface of his chubby pink face, 'but my dear boy, with so heavy a load, Mayflower's speed will be drastically cut, and her labours against the fierce gales and winter perils win be much increased.' The town buzzed unhappily with the news, knowing all too well that the Leyden Community, their funds exhausted, were committed to continue on their way. Sympathy and offers of financial help poured in. Now they watched with concern and even fear as arrangements continued quietly and calnily to re- stow Mayflower's cargo and find a little more, carefully balanced room for as much of Speedwell's cargo as possible. Even Martin gave grudging praise to Captain Jones when all was complete. The ship, burdened with the weight of her load, still rode straight and true in the water, the stores in her hold firmly secured with stout planking against the possibility of shifting, and her deck cargo neatly stacked under canvas covers and stoutly roped down. The passengers were assembled and boarded and a count of one hundred And thirty souls over all was made. On Wednesday, 6th September, 1620, Mayflower sailed from Plymouth in Devon. She left behind a sorrowing group of men and women who bad so nearly crossed the threshold to freedom and who watched their companions' departure with tears and sadness. Most of them planned to return to London in Speedwell, where she would be sold with the remaining stores and the money laid against the company's mounting debts. Summer had come early to the Cape and stayed late that year. The crops were heavy, fish and game abundant. It was the most prolific summer that Kytan had bestowed upon the tribes since he had struck down the Wampanoag at Patuxet and, in his wis- dom, taken nearly all their number. Aspinet had been young and untried as their Sachem then. It had seemed to be a sign that Kytan disapproved his inheritance upon the death of his father, Manamoick, but Chapanuk had made offerings and sought the signs and saw that there was no anger directed at the young man. Indeed, be had proved his ability to lead the tribe many times over since then. He had taken them from the lands IC17 of the death where the soil and the very air was bad, now that Kytan had shown them that it was so. He had brought them down the coast, passing many villages where the sickness still raged, round the great yellow bay, through swamplands and sand where no life stirred, and he had found them the sweet water and good earth where they set up their winter camp. They were a straggling group, the remains of the Nauset people. There was Aspinet, young and strong, untouched by the death that had fingered so many of his people. There were his two young wives and three surviving children. There were some seventy braves, women and children, old Parnmahup stoutly clinging doggedly to life after one hundred summers - and there was the great Chapanuk, blind since the white curtains had fallen across his eyes, but strong and certain as the dawn of each new day in the depth of his wisdom and the clarity of his inner sight. The children were his eyes when he needed the growing things to make medicine. He could tell whether they picked the wrong plants by the feel and smell of each root and leaf, and there were few careless enough to bring him the wrong ones since his wrath could be very terrible. Other tribes of the Algonquin sought the help of Chapanuk when their own medicine failed - for Chapanuk -never failed. His sightless eyes looked inward and he knew when they would come, and if they brought good will with them or wished ill upon his people. He had warned them when the white men came with their devious trading and forked tongues, but that time they heeded him too late. Twenty of their number had been taken and sold to white masters across the great sea, and none returned but Squanto of the Wampanoag. Old Pammahup had lost three fine sons this way, so that she had none to gentle her last years. She had never laid eyes upon the white man, but now she clung fiercely to life so that she might curse them when they came again. He stood upon the headland as night became pearled with dawn - a sentinel at the moment of the new sun's rising. His mouth poured out the ritual of the sun's Greeting to Kytan as he did each day of every season - but his mind was lost, far away from the sing-song chant, the raised arms, the paeon of daily joy. 'It' was out there upon the water, beyond the great red orb that even now rose to his call. He was feeling the presence ... seeing it at last and knowing now, without a doubt, that it brought with it something which challenged him and stood, a barrier of strength, between him and his very contact 68 with ., Ky'tan. There was a . ship. Of that he -was certain. A fat giant made of the sacred wood and borne towards him by the winds of strange lands. It would come and the pale skinned men would take again from his tribe, but not his people. He strove to tear aside the web which hid them from him but it vibrated t against his senses, rejecting him. There was awareness there, a questing after him also, but he had no vision of it, and it seemed to throw him aside. He could feel the sun warming the new day, its fingers gentle on his weathered face. Kytan comforted him. It was too soon to know more. They would come before the year died, and his people would be told in time to make their plans. Becky and Richard stood side by side at the-rail, waving to the distant figures of Mary and Samuel. They stood with a large crowd of well wishers who lined the quay thickly at Sutton Pool as Mayflower caught the breeze and her sails filled with a rumble and thwack of canvas. The three small Pargeters bobbed up and down like excited little corks but their parents stood quietly for once, arms round each other, diamond tears glistening, unshed, in Mary's eyes. Becky looked out at their fast receding figures with sadness and gratitude. They had, after all, unknowingly given her so much more than the warmth of their friendship. They had opened a tightly locked door - and most important of all, the reason for its existence was now ' clear. It had been the first time that the wildness had taken control of Richard's lovemaking that the name, dragged from the recesses of his soul, had been ground through clenched teeth into her ear. 'BIDDY ... oh, God ... Biddy! The words were lost as soon as they were uttered, and he had been quite unaware of saying them - and strangely, they had not stood between him and Becky as they might well have done, had he known what he had said. She had turned it all over in her mind, long after sleep had laid him quietly at her side. After her first shocked reaction, it had come to her that being so much part of each other, it was natural enough for them to love the same man - and it must, after all, have been the greatest sacri- fice Biddy could make to have given Richard to her so com- pletely and deliberately. She bowed her head and closed her eyes, sending her love and gratitude in great founts; to where Biddy sat quietly in the little oak grove, reaching out to her. 69 'The Lord grant that we may now go in peace from thi place and that this be the end of the farewells,' Mary Brewster said quietly at the rail beside them. Becky turned a radiant face to her. 'Ob, it will be, it will be. For it's jtst the start of our real beginning! The older woman looked at the girl's glowing happiness and the weight in her own heart was eased. If the young could carry a banner of such joyful certainty as this, her own faith was shamefully weak. She took the girl's hand in hers for a moment and patted it. 'Thank you, my dear,' she said quietly. 'I had lost sight of that vision of hope for a moment! If they had been crowded before, now the situation was infinitely worse. The galley bad to be manned in relays for the 'tween decks could only accommodate a few at a time for meals. Captain Jones had moved out of the inner Great Cabin and had moved in with the first mate in the tiny poop, so that the Brewsters and all their brood and the Carvers could take it over. Martin had exchanged his antagonist when Robert Cushman had left them and now was much chastened by having to deal with the powerful velocity of Miles Standish's uncertain tem- per. Miles, his affection for Brewster and the Carvers out- weighing the fact that he was by no means a man of any strong religious views, offered himself as the group's intermediary when it came to questions of policy. There were clearly those on board whose upbringing kept them firmly loyal to both King and country, and it was already beginning to look as though quite a few would not tolerate the excessive praying and self- imposed humility which these Separatists practised at all times. There had been murmurs of disapproval already over the warm welcome that Plymouth had lavished upon these, dissenters who were, after all, in open opposition to the King's Divine Right and the Church's legality to dictate its own dogma and policies. Where from Southampton there bad been little close proximity, now the overcrowded situation quickly began to highlight those who felt strongly on the subject. There were, besides the crew, some sixteen unmarried men among the passengers, plus thirteen men servants and five men travelling with their sons or servants. It was principally among these that the discord was loudest. The Martins' stepson, Sala- mon Prower, had not been slow to raise his voice against them before the ship had even reached Plymouth and now, when the, 'Pilgrims' as they had begun to call themselves, were crowding them into the bilges, he lost no opportunity of letting his con- 70 tempt go unheard. He and some of the other men had been reallocated sleeping space up on the deck, and though they fared no worse than some of the childless couples who also had to sleep out in the open, there were quite a number who muttered their resentment more loudly as the fine weather gave way to wind and occasional squalls. Becky and Richard, their spirits strong in private content- ment, quickly made friends with a cheerful young Leyden couple, Edward and Elizabeth Winslow and Edward's brother Gilbert, who had joined the ship at Southampton. Edward had left his Southwark printer's apprenticeship to join the Leyden group and, with William Bradford as Master Printer, had started their own press. He was a direct, down-to-earth debator, though quick to concede with much good humour if the dis- cussion became heated. Elizabeth, his wife, was not a deeply religious girl, but clearly doting on Edward's every word, agreed readily with him in all things. 'We shall give the problems a great deal of attention when once we are all settled in Virginia,' Edward said cheerfully when the subject of their childlessness was touched upon. In the hold was his precious printing press, his paper and inks, the heavy boxes of type and frame settings. He had, therefore, with Elizabeth, his whole world here on the ship - and the extra bonus of his young brother also. In time, all would be fruitful. In spite of the seriousness of the delays they had suffered, Edward seemed to exude optimism and an unbounded energy, talking by the hour with Richard about the plans they had for the new plantation, its establishment and long-term future. It was situated at the most northem tip of the Virginia Com- pany's lands, on the mouth of the mighty Hudson River and about a hundred miles north of Jamestown. It would not be long, be felt, before a road was established between the two settlements, so that trading by land as well as by sea could be established. That the new plantation was vulnerable to both French and Dutch attack seemed to worry him not at all. 'We are first and foremost a religious community,' he pointed out. 'The weapons and ammunition we carry on board are strictly for our defence, not for aggressive purposes, and we shall happily welcome all- comers to our hearths, as long as they come in peace. We will trade freely, fish within our rightful waters, and welcome all who worship with sincerity, whatever their creed.' He looked across the cluttered deck to where Elder Brewster and. Captain 71 Jones stood up on the Half Deck deep in conversation. 'Those sentiments have been the dream of our Pastor Robinson and of Elder Brewster there for these many years, and I would die happy if I could see it come to pass.' CHAPTER FOUR Mayflower sped before a wind from the east-north-east, making brave progress in spite of the load she carried. Christopher Jones and his officers were about the decks constantly, every instinct alerted for the slightest change in her trim, for the shifting gusts and smell of the air which heralded a change in the weather. The days were fair and bright, and it was not long before the passengers settled, their sickness past. With a few exceptions such as the Billingtons, Samuel Prower and Hop- kins's two servants who were constantly at loggerheads, the two groups found it not too difficult after all to live together. The Leyden families were quiet and tidy, kindly and quick to offer help wherever it was needed. They would not be drawn into debate on religious matters, but loved to sing and to listen to those of the English group whose songs were not church- orientated but rooted in their own towns and countrysides. There was an old man with a fiddle among the crew and it became a favourite evening pastime for the young to sit round him on the main or even the fore deck, listening to the lilt of his shanties and soon learning to join in the choruses. There were dances to exchange - seamen's jigs for village reels, further spiced by the dances the Leyden boys and girls had brought with them from Holland. William Mullins surprised them all when he and Priscilla produced flutes from their travelling chests and showed a rare skill in duo. The days went by happily enough until the whole ship was thrown into confusion by the attack on Desir6 Minter. They had been at sea for about three weeks and were on October's threshold with only one swift squall to send them below decks. The nights were fine, though chilly in the small 72 hours before dawn. It had been another peaceful Sabbath with Elder Brewster giving two prayer meetings as usual, one at first light and the other before their evening meal. Nearly everyone who could attended them by this time, not only because it was something to do to while away the long empty hours, but because he spoke with such mildness and conviction that it was difficult for anyone, whatever his faith, to find fault with their content. Desir6 was a painfully shy, introverted girl, a distant relative of John Carver. She possessed a china doll prettiness, but her extreme timidity made her, shrink from company. Her parents, in exasperation, had put her into the Carvers' care in the hope that the undoubted hardships and communal strivings ahead would help to break down her iron reserve and permit her to fulfil her natural functions in marriage and motherhood. So far, however, the close proximity of everyone on the ship had done little to break Desir6's shyness. Indeed it seemed that it only made her withdrawal worse as she shrank into corners or sat behind Katherine in their cabin, eyes cast down, and the stutter she had had since childhood now seemed almost to hold her tongue-tied. It was Desir6's habit to creep into a small comer somewhere on deck after the evening meal was over, to dwell upon the words of Elder Brewster in his sermon for that day. Lacking the impetus to be out-giving, her natural affections and the sharp- ening of her mind turned inward in a passionate devotion to her religion - and to Elder Brewster. She had tucked herself this particular evening between two covered crates of cargo at the aft end of the main deck. She often used this little space, created by the strange shapes of the crates and heavy furniture under the canvas. It was restful to lean on the rail, watching the moonlight wash the sea with silver and listen with half an car to the clapping and stamping that accompanied old Joss's gay little jigs and hompipes. Every now and then, he would play a lament and the sad notes would wash over her, bringing tears to her eyes. This evening he was in a happy mood, well warmed, no doubt, by a liberal application of spirits before be took up his fiddle. Desir6 watched the phosphorescent froth cream pass below and trail away into the night like twin banner ribbons behind the ship. She picked gingerly at a small sore place at the comer of her mouth and wondered why it was there. Quite a lot of the passengers had ren them now, especially the child 73 and those who had come over from Leyden. She must ask cousin Katherine to beg some salve from Mistress Gardenar. It seemed to help John Howland's face when it erupted so badly ... Without warning, a hand clamped across her mouth with a suddenness that took her completely unawares. There had been no movement behind her, no instinctive warning. In panic, she screamed, but the hand had jerked her back against a hard, evil smelling chest, the nails of the fingers digging cruelly into her cheek. The heart swelled and hammered deafeningly in her body. She writhed and twisted as the other hand tore at her bodice. Rigid with fear, she found she couldn't move and was held against the man's chest by the iron strength of that great arm and smothering hand. The smell of spirits and body dirt was powerful as an animal's, and the snickering, excited breath in her ears horrifying as the hand ripped her dress and crawled across her body, tugging at her immature breasts and fumbling downwards ... She twisted and screamed with all the force of her very being, but nothing came from under the vicelike grip about her face. Flashes of light spiralled before her staring eyes as shock pitchforked her into oblivion. John Clark closed the master's cabin door quietly and stood in the shadows of the half deck) listening to the scratchy fiddle music and watching the old man's listeners nodding their heads and beating time to his hornpipe. Two sailors were showing John Alden the intricate steps which seemed to be confusing the young giant's large feet. There was a burst of laughter as he lost his balance and found himself sitting, red cheeked and grinning sheepishly, in the bulging lap of Turk, the ship's cook. The first mate watched the dimly lit activity below. He was enjoying this trip after all, even to discovering a real sympathy with the Separatist group. This was his first job as mate to Captain Jones and he found him a good skipper, careful and fair in his dealing with the crew. He had just the right degree of discipline in him to retain their respect, while needing - and possessing - the patience and diplomacy of an angel to cope with the prob- lems of the passengers. He leaned over the rail with his eyes on the stars, habit making him pick out those who were their guides across this vast and evcr-changing sea. The great North Star . . _. the Bear ... Orion's Belt ... As he stretched and turned away to climb down the ladder on 74 to the main deck, a movement in deep shadow below him caught his eye. He leaned over the ladder rail, straining to see what stirred so in the blackness, and a glimmer of white made him frown. There were furtive movements there - regular but hurried ... Instinct sent him down the ladder in one great leap, and he clamped a heavy band upon the figure's shoulder. 'What are you up to?' he said, voice grating in his certainty that it was nothing good. The man gasped, twisting in his grasp and fumbling fran- tically. There was a faint thud as though something had been dropped and the man suddenly ducked, quick as an eel, and dived under Clark's arm and was gone. He looked into the recess, his eyes growing accustomed to the nig * lit. His foot con- nected with something soft and he bent down, outstretched hands finding bare flesh. It was a girl, the gown ripped from her front. She was quite unconscious, huddled like a bundle of rags at his feet. 'HANDS TO THE DECK,' he roared, shock and a rising fury driving the bellow from his lungs so that they echoed from one end of the ship to the other. The music stopped abruptly and there was a moment's frozen silence before his voice boomed out of the shadows again. 'HANDS TO ME ... FAST.' He came from the blackness into the yellow lantern light carrying the girl, held close to his chest. 'One of the women, quick,' he called, and Priscilla ran to him. 'Cover her up in front, quickly now, ses I can get her back to her cabin.' 'What happened, in God's name. Did she fall... where did you find her?' He took no notice of the questions, the anxious fluting voices, but stood white faced, eyes raking the crew as each man moved out on deck and into the guttering lamp light. 'Call 'em all up here, every man Jack of them,' he said to Coppin, his second mate. 'When I get back, I want the whole ship's complement on deck and call Cap'n Jones! He turned and carried his light burden in past the helmsman in steerage and called at the Carvers' cabin door, pushing his way through the curtain with little ceremony as Katherine Carver bade him enter. He laid Desir6 down on the bunk and pulled her torn gown closely round her, then turned to Mistress Carver, still seeing the small flower-like face, its smooth con- tours slashed with two great scratches, her small bud of a mouth already swollen and mottled. 75 'She's been attacked most cruelly, ma'am, and I fear she is sullied too,' he said, his voice rough with the sight of her. 'I saw something moving in the shadows - just outside here, and challenged the man when I saw it was one. But he slipped under my arm before I could get a proper hold on him. I got a quick look at him, though. I know who it is and, never fear, Mistress, he's going to wish he'd never been bom.' Katherine, after one horrified look at Desir6, had fallen to her knees beside the girl, weeping and patting her hands. Priscilla had lost no time in running for Surgeon Heal who returned now with her, clutching his bag of medicines. Clark left them crowding round the unconscious girl and strode back on to the main deck, the breath hissing through his teeth. The crew were assembled on deck, slouching and restless in the lantern light, Captain Jones pacing up and down before them. He started forward as Clark emerged from the steerage. 'How is the girl? ... What went amiss?' Clark told him briefly in a low rumble of rage. He also told him who the attacker had been, and Jones's eyes narrowed, his face hard. He turned to the men. 'Right,' he said. 'Now hear this. Each and every one of you will take careful note of every- thing you see and hear in the next few minutes, because it should be a warning to you. There is one among you now, a low man of vile intent, who has attacked and defiled a young woman here on my ship, within sight and sound of you all. He is a disgusting animal and you are about to see him treated the way a disgusting animal should be treated. We have on board some twenty-nine women and young maids. They are all respectable, God fearing people, none more so than the one so cruelly assaulted.' He looked at the men around him. Some registered the shock and disgust that he felt himself. Others simply fidgeted, caring little for what they heard. 'I have contracted to take these passengers across this ocean and bring them safely to the other side.' His eyes raked them, seeking one and finding him, riveted where he stood. 'No man may commit himself to touch or even ogle any of the passengers in my care ... NO ONE. For those who may harbour such intent in their black souls, I will show you what we do. Field and Smith ... bring Joseph Cousins here.' He pointed to the deck space in front of him. Field and Smith, startled to hear their names, looked at each other in confusion for a moment, then the order sank in and they looked down at the shrinking figure who cowered in the 76 shadows between them. 'So, you little runt,' Smith said, grab- bing at Cousins with relish. 'It was you, you horny little gutter cock.' They grabbed him and brought him between them through the ranks of silent men. Jones looked at the drooping figure slouching in front of him. Great barrel chest and arms like tree trunks. Little wizened fox face, the eyes darting from side to side like a rat in a comer. His filthy breeches were still agape, the crotch damp and smeared with blood, and his hands pulled at the rough cloth, the better to cover himself. 'Cat and line,' Jones ordered. He looked over Cousins's balding head to men packed closely round the circle of light. He took the man's tattered shirt front in a great iron fist and ripped it from his body. The rope was brought forward and Cousins was tied hand to hand and ankle to ankle, embracing the main mast. - 'You will now see this man beaten with thirty strokes and seven days at the mast,' Jones shouted. 'When that is done, if I even get the smallest complaint from these good people about one more of you, the next man goes over the side! There was an uneasy shifting among the men. It was bad luck to have women on board. They were always the cause of some sort of trouble. They leant against the boxes and barrels and watched dispassionately as the second mate weighted the cat-o- nine-tails with lead shot and stood waiting for the order to raise his arm. Cousins stood against the mast, glowering at the .shadowy shapes around him, braced for the agony of the first lash. 'Commence! The captain's voice cut across a heavy silence and the men peered forward like com bending in the wind as Cousins's body jerked against the mast and the first lash split the skin of his 6ck in a pattern of scarlet gashes. By the twelfth stroke he was screaming, his back a slippery mass of tom flesh ... by the twentieth, he was sprawled in a bleeding heap at the base of the mast ... by the thirtieth and last stroke, he had been unconscious for a count of ten. Jones looked down at him for a minute, his granite face expressionless, and then said to the men, his voice carrying clearly in the night air, 'Look well at that mess. Remember that it might well be any one of you.' He strode away, bidding Clark seek news of the girl's con- dition and keep him informed. The men melted into the dark- ness and returned to their posts and their hammocks. The ship 77 forged ahead under a strong gusting breeze, her timbers creaking. There was little sleep on the main deck that night. Cousins floated in and out of reality as the agony of his raw back was further aggravated by a heavy swell which built up after mid- night and drove a fine spray across him. The pain of the salt in his wounds drove him into screaming consciousness until the very depths of his suffering pitcbforked him back into merciful oblivion. Becky, lying with Richard not ten paces away, butted her bead against his chest and tried to block out the sound of the man's suffering. In the morning, the mess of blood and faeces was swabbed from the deck, and a bucket of water poured over him. It brought his head up with a deep, agonised croak, but otherwise be lay as he had fallen, crumpled round the mast base, his bound wrists and ankles rubbed as raw as the flesh on his back. Giles Heal inspected him after breakfast. He had been in to see Mistress Minter first and his watery blue eyes looked at the jellified back with contempt. The salt, he declared, would soon heal the cuts on the man's back, and his carcase was strong enough to sustain his miserable life a while longer. Sluice him down daily and bread and water were more than he deserved. As though it mirrored the depression that settled over the passengers, the weather turned sullen and grey, heavy rain- laden clouds scudding low above the clamorous sails. The women hung together in little groups, talking in low voices - the men paced restlessly. The Hopkins' two men servants, for- ever bickering, finally went for each other and had to be restrained. The Leyden people sought comfort in silence and guidance in their prayers and, under cover of darkness, Katherine Carver sent for Becky. 'Do you have anything in that medicine chest that I can give to poor Desir6 to ensure there are not tragic results of the crime that man committed?' she asked. There were various answers for most ills among the growing things for those who knew their language. She was not sure that she altogether approved of this competent girl with the strange control she seemed to wield over the health of so many of them. Still, if she could ensure that Desir6 would suffer no other effects than the shock she was still in, then there must be much to be said for the girl. Becky looked at her and nodded. 'I have never tried to help anyone in this way,' she said, 'but I have a good herb book which is very old and well tried by many others before me. I will consult it and see whether I have the right ingredients here with me. What has Surgeon Heal recommended?' The older woman shrugged angular shoulders. 'He simply bled her and ordered that she be kept quietly in the cabin away from prying eyes until she feels better and that ... that creature is released from the mast. He was not able to discover whether the man had actually left his seed or not, though he had certainly made penetration and torn her badly. Luckily, Desir6 remembers nothing except for the man grabbing her from behind and ripping her dress open. She mercifully must have swooned before he did worse.' Becky was a long time poring over the ancient volume which Biddy had put into the medicine chest. It had been one of Old Meg's books, full of fairly simple and straightforward direc- tions. However, there was little that referred to abortion. Finally, her eyes lighted on a small paragraph near the very end of the book. She read it over several times before the quaintly worded passage began to have any meaning for her. 'For take the life yet scarce astir and unwanted be, for horse or ewe, saw or maid, seek darkness for herein lie the Master of Night. Comes not the severance from Baily root and Peonie but lay the hands upon the place and cast the soul out in the wilderness ... forever joyful Astaroth. Becky read the little rhyme until she knew it by heart. She had no knowledge of anyone called Astaroth, but it sounded as though she was to use her hands, which was dangerous. It was extremist sects like this Leyden group that had begun the witch bunting fever in the first place, and it might be a very foolish thing to show that she possessed power of any sort in her bands. Finally she came to a decision and put her book away, selected a jar of sweet smelling rose balm and made her way to the Carvers' cubicle in steerage. Desir6 lay at the edge of the wide mattress, curled up with her knees tucked under her chin. She stared at Becky with a frightened child's innocence, her china blue eyes round with shock. Her fine honey coloured hair was dishevelled, the round face white and vinched. The deet) scratcbes on her cheek had scabbed and stood out from the purple bruising round her mouth and jaw. Becky knelt beside her and smoothed the hair gently from the girl's hot forehead, meeting the pitiful appeal in the tear-filled eyes with sudden determination. 'I have found a snippet which seems to have the answer for a situation such as Desir6's,' she said briskly, looking up at Katherine Carver who hovered anxiously over them like a flustered crow. 'There are various preparations that must be done first, and we need Mr Brewster's blessing upon the whole thing before I try it.' Katherine raised her eyebrows but nodded readily enough. 'Since it must be the Lord's Will, it should indeed have his blessing. I will go and ask him to come.' 'No ... wait. First we must help Desir6 to completely cleanse herself of any of the man's contact with her. That means a wash from head to foot. After that, Mr Brewster should pray over her and ask the Lord's help. Then I will start putting my salves upon her, and will stay with her for all the night hours on MY own. Katherine studied Becky's face. Why did she feel so un- certain about this young woman? Here she was, an expert herbalist of the greatest assistance to everyone since the voyage began. She was obviously a God-fearing girl, unwilling to help in the taking of life without the correct approval of her seniors. Yet there was something just beyond her awareness that was wrong. She was too clever by half, but that might be to all their advantages in the long run. The girl coloured prettily under her scrutiny and lowered her eyes, picking at her wool skirt with long tapering fingers. - 'Forgive me, my dear,' Katherine said contritely. 'It's so unusual for one so young to have the control of the Herbals the way you do. It made me uneasy for a moment, nothing more. We shall do as you suggest, won't we, Desir6? It can surely do no harm and we can only pray that it will do some real good.' Desir6 stirred and nodded slightly, her purple lips trembling as she battled with a fresh fall of tears. They took off her shift and bathed her body, even washing her hair in water and hazel juice. It took some time as she was too stiff and bruised to move freely and before a clean shift was put on her, Becky rubbed each discolouration with a lotion of green root of Solomon's Seal crushed with a few drops of rose water. When the girl was ready, Katherine stepped across the steerage area to the Great Cabin to fetch Elder Brewster and, returning with him, found 80 Becky kneeling at Desir6's side, her head bowed in prayer. Brewster looked long and closely at the girl, much a Katherine had done, and she knelt quietly beneath the pen etrating gaze. 'Stand up where I may see you better, Mistres Gardenar,' he said sternly, picking up a guttering candle ir its brass holder. She did so, and stood in front of him, her head level with hi own, returning the searching intensity in his zealot's eyes. He studied the girl, peering deep down into the depths of the velve brown eyes and finding nothing there but innocence and a certain childish determination to stare him out - which had nothing to do with wickedness. He sighed in his heavy way and put a hand to her cheek 'You're a good child,' be said with a tired smile. 'She will come to no harm at your hands.' He turned to Desir6 and bent over her. 'The Lord is with you always, my daughter. His Will be done. Go in peace and seek his eternal love.' The curtain fell into place behind him and Katherine sat down at the end of the mattress. 'I shall put the balsam on the lower part of Desir6's stomach.' Becky explained to her. 'And then I shall spend the night at her side, repeating the rubbing in until the essences which have an abrasive effect start rejecting whatever is in her womb. I must do this alone though, since this is what the book says, and I will pray with her till first light, then the mixture should have done its work and you may come back and see.' Katherine, struggling to keep the disapproval out of her face, watched as Becky pushed up Desir6's shift and took a good scoop of the sweet-smelling ointment in her fingers. She spread it over the girl's abdomen from hip to hip and from waist to pubic hairline. Then she began to work the mixture into the skin. At first, Desir6 turned her face away, mortified at baring her body in this way, but neither woman seemed to notice her embarrassment, Becky concentrating on the careful covering of every inch of skin - and Katherine keeping Becky under close scrutiny. It took quite a long time to complete the operation to Becky's satisfaction, but finally she sat back on her heels, smiled up at Katherine's gaunt face and across at Desir6, and stretched her arms, flexing her wrists and fingers. 'How stiff they get from rubbing for so long, but I think that should be enough. Will you stay with Desir6 while I go and tell Richard what I have to do 6 81 tonight? I will ask Turk in the galley to fetch 'us some broth and bread for our vigil, too! The night stretched out long arms and wrapped them close. She sat by a single candle until the ship settled in sleep around them. The Carvers had retired to the crowded public cabin for this night and slept fitfully, their minds on the two girls in the steerage cubicle. Becky read until her eyes ached, then she closed them until sleep crept upon her and she shook herself hastily awake. Desir6 dozed and woke with a jerk - then dozed again. She felt Becky's hand on her arm and jerked away with a start. 'It's all right, it's only me. I have to put some more balm on your tum,' she said softly. She watched as Becky took the big pot down. Only one finger dip of ointinent this time. 'Why so little?' she asked as Becky began to smooth it lightly over her again. 'Wait and see! The answer floated like a feather in the heavy air. She felt the soft hands on her skin, laid flat and still now so that she could trace each finger and the firm pads of the palms. There seemed to be an extra warmth enveloping her, going deeper and deeper as though Becky held a hot brick to her. She meant to ask how she did this trick, but she was feeling drowsy now and strangely contented. There was no pain any more from any of the cuts and bruises. Something moved within her like a tiny pulse, ticking, ticking. She opened her eyes slightly and watched Becky' ' s profile sleepily through cracked lids. She knelt over her, head slightly turned away from her, both hands rock still, fingers spread so that the thumbs and forefingers touched. Her head was thrown back, neck stretched so that the fine muscles at each side stood out sharply. Her lips moved sound- lessly, eyes closed. The candle spluttered suddenly at the end of its wick, send- ing great shadows leaping across the walls - and the flame died. 'Becky, I'm afraid,' the girl said in a small voice. She began to shiver. There was a rustle in the darkness and the bands were gone, the gown pulled down around her, and Becky's voice said softly, floating over her head, 'No need to fear. It's all done. I'm just going to light a fresh candle and put some rags under you, and then you must sleep. I shan't leave you, I promise.' She drowsed again, the gentle voice lulling her into a deeper sleep. 82 Becky felt for the tallow and tinder box. She fitted another candle into the soft wax of the gutted stump and struck a light. Its clean pale flame filled the little room with mellow detail and played about the girl's peacefully sleeping face. The tension and fear was gone and Desir6 was almost . beautiful. Becky flexed her fingers again, working the stiffness from them. She paused in the act of picking up her book again as the ship creaked and bowed its way into a rising sea. There was something there in the far recesses of her mind, aware of her - waiting for her to notice it. She frowned as a sharp pain shot through her head, then another and another. It was as if the pain carried sound with it for there seemed to be a thin whistling screech in her ears, rising in crescendo. She put her arms over her bead, wrapping them round as though to protect it and shut out the terrible sword sharp sound, but it was within her- self, and her mouth opened in a soundless scream against the pain. It was gone instantly. Like~ 4 toothache, there was only the echo of its passing. She found she was trembling, her forehead damp with sweat. There were voices murmuring about her as though she stood in a crowd, indistinct, muffled - speaking in a tongue that was strange to her. One voice separated itself and its deel tones resounded through her like a preacher in a church. 'Kytan ... Kytan . . . ' Its tone rose to a singing chant which flowed like water into the other voices and swept through her. 'Kytan ... Kytan...' She opened her eyes. The room was unchanged and Desir6 slept, cocooned in peace. It was her own voice whispering between the hands which covered her face. Kytan? What did it mean? What was Kytan? She found she was trembling. There had never been anything like this before. Even the pale echoes of Biddy's formidable nightmares hadn't flooded her with this feeling of vulnerability - utter defencelessness. What were they approaching that must be wishing so ill of them) She pressed her face to the open port, welcoming the clean salt air upon her skin and searched the invisible sky for the first glimmer of dawn. When the man Cousins had been at the mast for four days, Becky asked to see Elder Brews'I cannot stand by and see that man's suffering,' she said 83 simply. 'But Richard will not allow me to tend his wounds. Oh, I know all too well what his crime is, for he is the same man who would have accosted me one day, and again when I was with Priscilla Mullins. But now his back is in terrible shape and I could so easily help it to heal.' He had been writing to John, his oldest son, and his spirit was without anger. He looked up at the beauty of the anxious girl and marvelled that her compassion was greater than his own. 'The man has sinned against the flesh. He is unclean in the eyes of God and of Man also,'he said sternly. 'But sir, he is also born of God and Man, however sinful. I would only wish to ease his body so that his mind might repent. A good answer. The girl had intelligence as well as com- passion. 'I will ask Captain Jones whether he will permit you to see to the wretch,' he finally agreed. 'The decision is his, you know, for the man is one of his crew, and it was he who ordered the punishment.' There was no trouble. Jones was extremely touched that one of the women, a pretty young one at that, should make such an offer after one of their number had been treated so ill. It was, he felt, a sealing of the breach between passengers and crew which bad been very apparent since the night it happened. Becky prepared poultices from the crushed roots of meadow grasses and narcissus bulbs, blended together with hogs' grease, and carried them up to where the man lay. He certainly had an iron constitution, for though his back had scabbed and broken open again in a dozen or more places, he was evidently begin- ning to regain his strength. He lay on the deck, shifting his weight constantly to ease his unnatural position. His eyes darted about the deck, missing nothing and stabbing venom at those who jeered at him and leering with dreadful pleasure at the fright and revulsion of the women as they passed by him. All the passengers encleavoured to steer clear of him, but it was virtually impossible when he sat less than ten paces from the main hatchway. It was as though he had been in Hell and now bad little to fear from anything else. As Becky approached, he looked up, his thick cracked lips parting in the beginning of an obscene smile which quickly faded as he recognised her. The lascivious expression fade~ from his rat's face and he shrank against the mast, a rising panic sending his beady eyes darting from one side to the other as he tried to push himself behind it. Calmly she put the poultices down on a canvas covered crate. 84 'There's no need to be afraid. I am going to bread poultice your back so that it heals quickly and well for you,' she said crisply, her voice carrying across to the others who peopled the main deck. They watched idly as the man seemed to shrivel before her and meekly allow her to apply the strips of bread, soaked in her mixture, and bind them to him with strips of old linen. She worked swiftly with practised movements while the man sat rigid, head lowered to his chest, a figure of stone. The watchers had not heard the rest of the exchange, nor even seen her lips moving as she spoke softly to him while she worked. Only Cousins heard her and he was powerless to help himself against a sentence of death. 'You are guilty of abomination in thought and in deed and, given the opportunity, you would treat every woman on this ship in the same way. Well, sir, here is one man who will abominate no more! Cousins had found himself looking again helplessly into the fathomless pools of her great brown eyes and felt himself drown- mg, whirled and sucked down in a powerful current till there was nothing at all in his sight or in his mind except the glowing, beautiful, desirable pools - and be felt himself shaking in a strangely horrifying ecstasy. He heard her soft voice whispering behind him as she tended his back, but the words were in the old language, and they were the oldest death sentence of all time. He whimpered and fought to free himself from the bondage she wove about him, but all be could see were the lovely, teasing, terrible eyes, and he felt the orgasm in his body repeating, repeating. . . By the last day of Cousins's sentence, Becky's daily minis- trations had resulted in a huge improvement, and the scabbing was clean and free from odour. However, a strange silence and apathy;bad fallen upon him, and he hung from his ropes, moping and speechless. When they cut him free, he lay where he had fallen until a hard boot from the second mate brought him stiffly to his knees, He dragged himself to his feet and stood swaying for a minutc and then shambled off, bead bowed, to the crew's quarters. The following morning, the returning night watch found him dead. There was surprise, but nobody questioned the cause - 85 and nobody mourned his passing. Like all who had died at sea, he was put over the side. On the thirty-eighth day out of Plymouth, they encountered a fierce gale. A mountainous sea sloughed in over the ship's side, drenching the boxed livestock and pouring into cubicles and cabins from dozens of cracks where the decking had warped. The carpenters patched and recaulked, but still the water dripped and trickled, staining bedding and chilling the passengers' stiffened joints as the cold and now the damp crept though their layers of clothing to the very bone marrow. Even Samuel Fuller's two dogs pressed against each other and shivered like greyhounds, finding the earlier comfort of his mattress nearly as bleak and wet as the floor. The fair weather had lasted longer than Jones had dared to hope, and now, poring over his charts and calculating their position by the sun with cross staff and astralobe and by moon and stars with his nocturnal, he ventured to think that they were now past the halfway mark - and there would be no turning back. The weather worsened from squall to storm conditions, and all sail was hauled in and the ship hulled, riding the tower- ing waves which crashed over them, shuddering with the rip and punch of the frenzied air. Sickness and the miserable dampness everywhere combined to turn every passenger into a shivering bundle of sodden, evil smelling clothing. The children seemed to ride the storm better than their elders, but all were now depleted in health and few were free of the running sores and itchy body rashes which was the main complaint, in spite of Surgeon Heal's daily order that everyone must suck the last drops from one lemon each. Becky had at last succumbed to the ship's motion. She assured Richard that she was not sea-sick ' but he was not convinced. She was paler than the palest of them, at times even listless, though when her help was sought, she would summon up a small fount of energy and go willingly enough to her medicine box. He watched her with growing concern, how- ever. There was certainly something eating away at her, drain- ing her strength and smudging the hollows of her eyes with grey shadows. They were all in a depressed and sickly con- dition, admittedly. There was little sleep by day or night now, since they were all huddled one upon the other in the Great Cabin and in the 'tween decks, with the sea intruding even here and dripping relentlessly from between the deck planking. At night, he held her close to him, feeling the tremors which 86 shook her from time to time. She would dream, and crying out, wake and cling to him as though her very life depended upon it. But when he questioned her, she shook her head and simply said she was prone to nightmares, tugging nervously all the while at the little bone pendant she always wore round her neck. She told him little of the disturbing dreams, simply saying that one night there were great black monsters in the sea all around them. She was sorely afraid that they were trying to capsize the ship. Another time she saw a great white island which bore down on them from out of a fog, sending the little Mayflower flying in a million whirling splinters. At the time, they seemed very real to her but she always shook them off and gathered herself to cope with the coming day. The stormy period abated and Mayflower resumed her passage. The days were as cold as the nights now, and it was certainly not possible for anyone to sleep on deck any more. They had all reached a state of apathy where the added over- crowding no longer bothered them, and they simply huddled the closer to keep each other warm. Rain overtook them again on the forty-fifth day, bringing with it a knife-edged wind which tore at the rigging and threatened the fore mast. The passengers seemed to occupy their time listening more and more to the agonised sounds of Mayflower's timbers, creaking and groaning with strain under the assault of wind and sea. Every stitch of sail was hastily hauled in, and the ship hulled once more. Dully, from their evil smelling prison below decks, they listened to the distant roar of the captain bellowing orders as the gusts snatched his voice away. . . 'Clew up sprits'l . . . baul up mains'l ... all hands to fores'l . . . lash the helm . . . ' It seemed to continue hour after hour until time ceased to have much meaning and they merely existed in limbo. Mayflower lay hulled all through the night and the following day. Two of the crew were lost overboard as the weather con- tinued to deteriorate, and it was hardly necessary for Jones to order all passengers to stay below since they bad become like boneless ghosts lurking, tightly packed, in the noxious 'tween decks area. A few of the young men had been allowed to give a hand in emergency, and one of these was John Howland, a young kinsman of the Carvers and secretary to John Carver. There was little room for him in their crowded cabin, and rather than be haunted by Desir6's tragic little face, he had asked to be made useful on deck. He was in the act of securing 87 a baggy wrinkle rope when a sudden sleety gust sent the ship heeling over on her side and he felt himself~l lifted as a great sheet of icy water enveloped him and drew him over the side and down. He frantically clutched the heavy baggy wrinkle till his nails broke and then the sea took him, forcing him down into its frozen depths, ears roaring, mouth tight shut - then he was rising. He seemed to shoot up and up, tossed upon the crest of a bludgeoning wave and then taken by the next one. Gasping and gulping great mouthfuls of water and almost rigid with the shock of the icy water, he suddenly realised that he was still clinging to the rope - and being dragged through the water close to the ship's side. He tried to shout, but his lungs filled with water. His body was battered bv sledge hammers and once he was flung against the ship's side, but the feeling was fast leaving his body and he concentrated all his remaining strength on hanging on to the trailing baggy wrinkle. He was not aware of being drawn against the side, of men with boat hooks slowly hauling him out of the water and praying that he would not let go before they could drag him to safety. He was dimly aware of the rough wet wood scratching his face as they dragged him over the side and of hands trying to prise open his bleeding fingers from the life-saving rope. He realised that there were voices in his ears and the sea was no longer battering at him, and then everything slid from him and his hands relaxed their lock hold. It was a merciful escape and be was young and almost as fit as he had been when he joined Mayflower. He hung on at the edge of life for two days before returning to consciousness and, with it, the ability to get rid of the remaining salt water in his lungs. The storm conditions stayed with them, battering at the ship so that she pitched and shuddered, tossed over on to her bows one minute and then, sickening sliding back on her stem the next. The winds were in spiteful mood, allowing a brief lull every now and then, when they thought that they could stand no more - smashing their hopes with the next deafening on- slaught. The sky, when it could be seen, was a strange sul- phurous, leaden yellow, bulging with fast moving grey clouds which rolled in low over the sea and backed up under pewtered sheets of rain. The sea had long since lost its brilliant blue and evening purple, and now the white foam caps of the sullen waves curled in over slatey depths, fathomless, threatening. Tbe- -- "n warriin when e ain bea went. The it) was riding stem to into the weather, poles bare. Water poured through the grating of the main hatch whenever it was opened to give the trapped passengers more air. They crouched where they could, as they had done for days and nights, listening to the unabating tumult beyond the timbers of their refuge. How frail the little ship was in the face of such fury. Becky thought fearfully of the great boot she had seen in a dream. descending upon them from out of a storm ... and crushing them, driving them down into the black depths which were so close beneath their fragile hull. There was a sudden crack over her head, a small explosion like a musket being fired nearby. Everyone jerked into awareness and pale faces turned this way and that, seeking the cause of the ominous sound. Water began to drip over Becky who sat close to Richard and the Chilton family. Baby Samuel Eaton started to cry at her shoulder, and she turned to comfort him in his mother's arms, The water suddenly cascaded down, drenching those underneath. There was a panic, of pushing as, looking upward in the dim light, they saw, to their horror, that the great beam above their heads had frac- tured and was slowly sagging downwards, its splintered ends gaping. 'My God, the ship is breaking up,' Standish bellowed across at Martin, who was in the act of mounting the ladder to open the hatch and investigate the noise. This was hardly the wisest comment because it produced immediate panic, and Martin shot up out of the hatch as though chased by demons. He shouted to the second mate who was on duty, telling him what had happened. 'For God's sake, get the carpenter quickly or we shall all be drowned down there,' he begged. Inside a minute, Jones appeared with the carpenter, Brew- ster, at his heels and three worried looking seamen. They pushed their way down the ladder, throwing off those who had tried to climb it to reach the deck and a degree of safety. Down on the deck, all was chaos with panicking families and hysterical children milling, bumping, pushing at each other in their fright. Jones fought his way to the sagging beam and found Edward Winslow and Richard, with William Bradford and Miles Standish, all desperately trying to support it and push it back into place. It was a huge, well-seasoned oak, nearly two feet in diameter, and was resisting their straining efforts. The storm outside was forgotten as efforts began to repair the beam. The people crowded in on them, their prayers and tears sapping the F last of Jones's patience. 'Be good. enough to give us roorn,' he r suddenly roared at them, 'we are doing all we can to repair the damage and reduce your predicament! 'Is it not the predicament of the whole ship now?' Brewste asked, voicing the feelings of them all. 'With this beam going, will not the rest soon follow?' Jones turned to him, exasperation overcoming his usual courtesy. 'God's truth, sit, if I thought for one moment that that might be the case, do you think I would be here, wasting my time on one deck beam? This ship is as sound as a bell and has been through worse weather than this many a time. You can start a'praying when the main mast goes, but let us get this thing fixed and then, I'll show you how sturdy she is.' Brewster said nothing more and did his best to quieten the fear in the people around them. An hour went by, two ... and the patching that the carpenter improvised had little effect. They argued and discussed and still the beam sagged over their heads and the water poured in. 'Mr Jones, may I suggest a possible solution?' Edward Winslow asked suddenly. He had been very quiet, watching the efforts of Jones and the crew, his eyes thoughtful. Jones looked over his shoulder impatiently. He was panting with the exertion of trying to lever a length of timber up under the fracture. 'What is it, sir?' 'Well, we have our printing press stowed in the hold below. It's all dismantled, and one of its sections is a very large iron screw which might do the trick if fixed in at an angle to take b6th sections. Then we could further strengthen the repair with timber shoring as you are attempting now.' Jones straightened himself slowly. Interest quickening in his eyes. 'Where is this screw?'he asked. Winslow grinned. 'Right by the cargo shaft,' he said cheer- fully. 'That's how I spied it and the possibility occurred to me! There was a scramble for the cargo shaft at the forward end of the teeming deck. All the cargo was still rigidly secure, held in place with stout timber and nailed well down. The screw was not difficult to locate and was brought up, together with its timber housing. It was fully three feet long, a great batter- ing ram of iron with a heavy looped head, through which its iron pin went in order to twist,and screw it into place. It took them nearly three more hours to complete the job but, at the end, the screw was in place, jointing the fractured timber back into place, which in turn permitted timber shoring to be banged in underneath. The sea no longer poured in, and 90 the women, still shaking from their shock, wearily set about clearing some of the mess on the wet deck. Jones wiped his face with a dirty red kerchief and put a ~anq on Edward's shoulder. 'A firm vote of thanks for your inspired suggestion, young sir,' he said, a smile wrinkling the skin round his eyes. 'To be truthful, I can't think how we'd have solved that problem without your monster screw.' 'It was certainly Heaven sent,' Edward said happily. 'I thought my Master Bradford would have a fit when it was first suggested, but I see he has decided to forgive me.' Bradford was, at that minute, standing beneath the timber, gazing up at the great screw in its new resting place, with every evidence of satisfaction on his face. Later that night, when the night watch had just struck the half hour on the ship's bell, Jones sat in the great cabin, talking in low tones with Elder Brewster while Mary and the rest of his party slept peacefully behind their bunk curtains. The weather was easing fast, and the ship no longer sawed and rolled under them. They were feeling inexpressibly weary, two men, past their prime now but still in command of their strict authority. 'We have been taking a look at the ship's hull,' Jones said, taking a pull at his wine tankard on the oak table before him. 'It will give you more confidence to know that it, is as sound as a bell, sir.' He smiled reassuringly at Brewster's obvious relief. 'This must be a very alarming journey for all of you, especially those of your people who have never voyaged by sea before. The situation is also made more wretched by the crowded accommodation, which is greatly regrettable and not foreseen by any of us.' Brewster nodded, leaning back in his high-backed oak chair. He felt so tired now that he could hardly concentrate on the master's kindly concern. The gruff voice went on. 'We are fast approaching the stream of warmer air which flows up the American coast from more tropical climates further south. I'd appreciate it if you would speak to all your people and tell,them to expect many strange sights from now on. There will be calm days - storms like the one we've just been through - thick fog, even the great bergs that float in the sea and come from the ice lands to the north. Tell the passengers these things, if you please, and then they will be expecting them. Ignorance,' he mused, 'is often the root of misplaced The weather improved fast and helped them on their way 91 once more. Brewster took longer over prayers before break- fast the next morning, for there was much to be thankful for, in retrospect. Before the meeting broke, he told them what Jones had said the night before and described as well as he could the many wonders that the Lord might bring out on display for them. 'Don't be surprised,' he said to them a113 'if you see great and marvellous sea monsters in these waters. The very sight of them will surely bring nature's blessing upon our own fishing later on.' . Jones had quietly joined Brewster, realising that the Elder was in for a possible grilling now that the situation had quiet- ened down and the passengers would be getting both restless and resentful of their situation. He was not far wrong. A small boy with once bright golden curls tugged at his jacket. He looked down at the little pinched face, streaked with last night's tears and a running nostril. 'Please, sit, tell us about them monsters, will ya?' There were sores about his mouth but his eyes were bright, mischievous. 'You shut yer gob, young Francis,' Billington said, roughly, pulling his son away from Jones's side and thrusting himself into the space. 'Wot me and my friends would like ter know a lot more'n tales of ruddy sea monsters an' the loik, is when do we see some land then? We been on this bleedin' leaky old bucket for nigh on two months now, an' still we're friggin' about on the bloody ocean. Don't your navigator know where 'es takin'us or sumpfink? ... I've watched the way we've been runnin' to and fro like a hen wiv' its neck wrung.' Jones looked at the man standing up against him, the light of battle and his citizen's rights backed by the murmurs of agreement all round them. 'I think, Mr Billington, you forget that we sailed quite a bit later in the year than we had in- tended for our safety,' he snapped back, raising his voice for the benefit of all to hear. This man was surly and uncouth at the best of times, always the first to make a complaint, and he had already been over this subject with him on several occa- sions. 'For the benefit of those of you who do not know what we are about, I will try to explain. If we had been able to leave Southampton the first week in August, which was the first intention, we would have reached Jamestown in about fifty-five to sixty days, which would have been about the last week in September. We should have enjoyed the benefit of warin weather, few of the squalls which have dogged us latterly, and good following winds to speed our progress. 92 'Instead, we left late and didn't pass Land's End until September 7th, when we should have been making our land- fall. Now we have been at sea for fifty-three days, since today is the 29th October. We reckon from the sea currents, air temperature, and sun and star sightings, when they are view- able, that we are close now to land, and that any day the look- out will give us the good news. 'Patience, I beg you. It is a difficult pastime navigating the ocean at the best of times, but the difficulties are tenfold when we have adverse weather conditions to contend with also.' He looked round the long room, relieved to see the faces soften- ing and murmurs of anticipation beginning to run among them. Smiling at their scattered words of thanks, he followed Brewster up the ladder and out on to the deck. 'Just for your cars, sir. We're going into pretty treacherous waters from now on, and I'd be glad if you would make sure that the passengers are reassured of the ship's strength and capabilities.' Brewster agreed hastily. There had been some bad moments in the past weeks, and the splintering of the main beam was surely the worst of them. The weather continued to improve and the people's spirits rose as it became possible to walk once more on the decks for some part of each day. They were all grey and hollow-eyed by this time, their dry flaky skins itching while the painful sores stung and watered in the salt air. Brewster, his mind filled with sadness for their situation, sat stiffly on a pile of rope, watching the froth popping and spinning from under the ship's stern. He rubbed his jaw gingerly, trying not to dwell on the throb and stiffness caused by a decaying tooth. Oh, to be back in Leyden now, close to the home of Henryk Emmelmans who had a magical touch in dentistry and pulled his patient's molars with almost no pain and few after-effects. He noticed Mistress Gardenar nearby. She leaned against the rail and smiled shyly. 'Is your tooth still paining you, sir?' she asked. He nodded, rubbing his swollen cheek with a rimey hand and screwing his face up. 'I should have thought to have our Dutch neighbour look over our teeth before we left,' he said ruefully. 'No time though ... too much to see to.' Becky looked sympathetic. She hesitated, about to say something. She looked at him uncertainly, as though trying to make a decision, which indeed she was. She looked down at her hands, feeling the faint tremor stir in them. 'Sir, please do not Q!% misunderstand me, but I think I can help you.' He looked at her, waiting for her to suggest one of her remedies. Really, she was being of inestimable value to them all. Samuel Fuller, their own herbalist - and Surgeon Heal also, had commented many times upon this young woman's skill - and sense of duty. She fixed him with wide, almost pleading eyes, the colour standing bright in her pale cheeks. She lifted her hands and held them out to him, palms up. 'I have some sort of feeling in my bands, sir. Sometimes I get a trembling in them when I am with a sufferer, and I put my hands upon him ... and ... and the pain goes away! Her great brown eyes were round with anxiety at his look of alarm and disbelief. 'I have always treated it as a God-given gift, sir,' she hurried on quickly. 'It doesn't happen very often and never upon demand, but I have given help to many people in our village, even to our pastor who suffers greatly with the gout., 'Child, what are you saying?' Brewster said gently. He took the small hands held out to him and turned them over. Stich fine little hands, roughened by work already and made worse now with the salt water and the tasks that were asked of them. 'The Lord's gift of healing is granted to very few of his flock. I only saw it once, and then felt it to be a hoax more likely! CI can heal your pain,' Becky said firmly. 'The feeling is in my hands. That's why I offered, sir. Put my hand to your cheek and keep it there. What harm can come to you from that?' He looked at her keenly, into the dark pools of her thickly lashed eyes. Why was it necessary to be constantly testing this girl, constantly doubting her? She was such a strange one, yet seemingly Pood in every way. He sighed heavily as was his way and smiled, the tired and weathered face breaking into a thousand fine lines as he patted the waiting hands and nodded. 'Very well, my dear. You are more than kind to offer me your help. May I add my prayers to yours? God in his Almighty goodness may indeed hear the two of us more readily than my own voor supplications! He lifted her hands and placed them on either side of his face and closed his eves. He was about to prav when a strange vibration in his head riveted his attention. There seemed to be a gentle humming flowing through his skull, emanating from the warm pressure of the girl's hands. He opened his eyes, startled. Becky's face was level with his own. Her eyes 94 were shut, her face relaxed as though she were sleeping. The pressure of her hands was light and steady, their warmth slowly increasing. He closed his eyes again and concentrated upon the waves of power which gradually built up along his jaw and on up into his head. They were like nothing that he had ever experienced before, soothing yet invigorating, gathering round the jagged throb of his aching gums and gradually increasing until the pain became drowned in the golden glow. He felt as though he was swinging in space, lighter than air, drifting like a dandelion puff in warm sunlight. Time dissolved and there was no more pain. His dragging weariness fell from him and he was uplifted and filled with well being ... The vibrations lessened and the heat in the gentle hands subsided. 'How does that feel now?' He heard her voice from a long way off and dragged him- self back to reality. He opened his eyes and stared blankly at the smiling girl. 'It's gone . . . quite extraordinary ... no swell- ing now, no sour taste.' He continued to examine himself in amazement, all the while staring at Becky in puzzled disbelief. 'What were you doing with Elder Brewster today?' Dorothy Bradford asked her in the galley that noon. 'Praying for the Lord to help his toothache,' Becky said innocently, giving the woman the full benefit of her wide smile. Mistress Bradford grunted. She was a thin, plain-speaking woman with a high colour and a fount of nervous energy. She had a high, breathless voice, and her slightly protruding eyes missed little of what went on around her. This endless voyage was beginning to feel like a canker in her; Speedwell was to blame - or her captain - or the weather - or any one of a million small pricks which together were becoming one great sword thrust in her. It bad seemed strange to see Elder Brewster in such close conversation with a pretty young woman; even stranger when the girl had taken his face in her bands like that. She and Katherine Carver had been quite shocked at the spectacle - until be stood up, drawing away from her and joined his hands in prayer. She sniffed, shrugging her shoulders. It seemed an odd thing for a young woman, not even one of their community, to have been doing. Still, the Elder's swollen face was definitely restored to its normal shape and his pain had obviously left him, so it wasn't her place to harbour doubtful thoughts. There 95 was something odd about that girl thought. All dimples and kiss curls - but there was something untrustworthy under all that demure little act; she could feel it. She said as much to Kate Carver, too. Priscilla and Becky would watch the sea spray for hours, close now in a comfortable companionship that might have had something to do with Priscilla's wakening interest in John Alden. She was a big girl, and John's towering stature made her feel a great deal smaller and more feminine than she had thought herself. That he obviously nursed a growing admiration for her became clearer every day, since he was usually to be found somewhere in the vicinity when she and Becky exer- cised on deck, or when she might be in need of a strong hand to help carry the heavy pots of food down the ladder from the galley. Becky and Priscilla leant on the rail one morning, watching a distant wall of mist roll away from them as a thin sun broke through. 'How good it would be to suddenly see the land when the mist clears,' Priscilla said moodily.They were all desper- ately sick of each other now, and tempers were as short as some of the rations were becoming. Becky knew what she was feeling. They 0 longed to get away from each other and find some space. Her eyes idly searched the receding blanket of mist, dreaming up hills and rivers and the silhouettes of houses that spelled the end of this experience. Her eyes suddenly widened and the colour drained from her face as something moved on the edge of the mist away beyond the dipping bows. 'Oh God in his Heaven, I see them,' she whispered. 'Look ... look at them ... I dreamed about them. They came and swam all about us ... and they sank the ship! Priscilla, startled by the panic in Becky's voice, peered out over the gently rolling water. On the mist's fringe, something black showed for a moment ... and then was gone. Another and then another fleck broke the surface and disappeared. She strained her eyes against the sun's strengthening glare and caught a glimpse of a great black tail - there one minute, gone the next. As the two girls looked at each other in growing fright, the lookout bellowed from above them, 'Whales on the star- board bow. ..' There was an excited rush to the ship's side as the passengers jostled each other to get a look at the legendary creatures. 96 There mu I st have been twenty or more of them, cavorting round each other as they moved across Mayflower's bow. Becky seemed frozen to the ship's side, her eyes glued in fascinated fear as the huge creatures closed with the ship. She felt Richard's hands on her waist. 'Don't worry,' he said in her ear, giving the lobe a nibble. 'Christopher Jones has hunted these fish. He says they won't hurt us.' 'Only we them,' she muttered. The sea heaved and exploded and a vast body suddenly erupted beside them. The ship heeled and righted itself slowly, scattering passengers and crew in noisy heaps about the deck. Something fell from aloft and landed with a sickening thud nearby. Becky had caught sight of gleaming black skin rearing out of the water beside her and a small wicked eye boring into her own. She fell as the deck tilted, gouts of spray drenching her. Then Mayflower righted herself, shook her sails and ploughed on through the dripping, blowing monsters. With everyone else, Becky and Richard picked themselves up. All about them were little cries and wails of fright as the women fled from the unheeding whales and scrambled down into the familiar confines of the 'tween decks. On the deck, beside the upturned shallop the lookout lay, his neck broken. He was a young boy, not more than fifteen years old. 'I dreamed it, Richard,' Becky whispered, looking at the terrified stare in the dead boy's eyes. 'I dreamed that the whales came ... I told you.' He held her close, soothing the shuddering breaths from her. 'I know you did, love ... but so did the captain, remember? I expect the thought stayed with you and became a dream later! He began to propel her away from the crumpled figure as the mate, John Clark, came over to examine it. 'Come on, were soaking. We'll put on some dry things and then we'll talk about it if you want.' But they didn't talk. Becky had changed her overshift and was wringing the water from her wool gown when Stephen pushed his way through the crowded cabin towards them. 'Becky, would you come and take a look at Elizabeth?' he said quietly. 'We think her labour has started for the waters have broken.' And so it proved. They scannned the packed 'tween decks with dismay, choked as it was with damp, sour smelling humanity. There would be no room in there for Stephen and the three children that night. The cubicles were similarly 1 97 crowded. Finally William and Susanna White made room for them, since they only had one small child, though the second was expected shortly, Becky went to fetch Alice Mullins who would act as mid- wife - and Surgeon Heal . . . 'though why we should need him, I can't think,' she smiled down at Elizabeth. 'He's more in- terested in mending bones than in giving succour to a woman in labour.' Her hands still trembled from the shock of the whales' sounding, but the ship still pranced gamefully on her course, so maybe the dream was only a warning. At least, she would not be able to think about bad dreams for the next few hours. A new squall hit the ship after sundown but it quickly passed them by, leaving the rest of the night clear with a watery moon scudding from cloud to cloud. It was almost impossible for Jones and his officers to get a star fix, let alone an accurate one, but they reckoned their position was somewhere off the south coast of Newfoundland. The birth was an easy one in spite of the conditions and a small, healthy son was born as the dawn broke between May- flower's applauding sails. Alice tied the cord at his small pink stomach while Becky tidied Elizabeth and washed her face in rose water. The cord cut, he was wrapped, protesting, in a warm shawl and placed in his mother's arms. The birth brought a feeling of happiness to all the passengers, a sensation none of them had felt for many weeks. The Leyden group likened his arrival to the birth of Jesus in a humble stable. From such lowly beginnings comes greatness, they observed sagely. The newcomer, unaware and uncaring of the stir his arrival had caused, was finishing his first paean of greeting to the world and settling in Elizabeth's arms for his first good sleep. Stephen was delighted and relieved at the way things bad gone. There had been no complications. Elizabeth was thread- bare with tiredness now, but otherwise none the worse for the experience. The baby was apparently strong and unblemished and - surprisingly, the very son that Becky had promised them. He thanked her and Alice for their help with some emotion and waited eagerly for Constanta, Giles and Damaris to wake and hear the good tidings. The dead seaman was despatched over the side during the night, Jones reading from the New Bible as the body was committed to, the deep. There was another death that first day 98 of life for the Hopkins' ship-born son. A servant Of one of th4 Leyden passengers had been sick for most of the voyage, com plaining of chest pains soon after they left Plymouth. He ha lingered through the weeks, unable to keep solid food down in spite of the constant attentions of his master, Samuel Fuller Becky had been no more successful, though her lotions ha greatly helped the terrible bed sores that formed under hi fevered body. During the afternoon of October 31st, Wil Button finally died. There were now more than a dozen sicl passengers, suffering from complaints brought on, no doubt by the terrible damp, the unhealthy air, and general crowdec and filthy state that they were all in. Several of the women wer in an extremely depressed state also, and a feeling of despai and the shadow of death quickly descended upon those wb( had rejoiced at the birth a. few hours before. It was a calm, cold day, the air crystal and fresh, the cloud riding high and fast in the blue canopy above them. There wa a momentary stir of excitement during the aftemoon when the lookout gave the 'Land Ho', but it was land of a different kind - a huge floating island of ice, mountainous and radiant. It moved past them with majestic grandeur, some two miles away, the crags and spires of its crenellated surface brilliant with a myriad shades of blue, adorned with heavy fringes of silvery stalactites and afire with red and green flashes of reflected sunshine. The following day, a gull circled the ship and settled on the fore mast rigging. During the afternoon, three more gulls ap- peared and joined them and they stayed with Mayflower, scolding and screeching as they wheeled above the great sails. 'We are near,' Becky thought, watching them. She could feel it, even smell it. Land must be just over the horizon. They would see it any time. The others felt it too and there was a surreptitious stirring, an effort to begin tidying possessions, and stowing them back into the sea chests and trunks. The men bung over the rails~ straining their eyes and pacing restlessly as each new day failed to reward them with the first purple smudges of the Virginia hills. It was November all of a sudden. The fifth dragged by and the sixth. Then they were into the second week and a heavy swell began to build up, giving the ship a return to the un- comfortable sawing motion which had so upset most of the passengers at the start of their voyage. For the past two days, Jones and John Clark had been in constant consultation. If 99 they were on the approach to the mouth of the Hudson, they should have been in sight of land by now. The star fixes had been so difficult to set during the past month that the task of navigating accurately was a constant worry, and they began to fear that they were now going too far to the south. Two lookouts were posted for all the daylight hours but the horizon remained empty. On 9th November, Becky took the baby, now named Oceanus, up on deck to meet the sunshine for the first time. She held him close to her and felt his tiny mouth gently nuz- zling the warm down of her cheek. She hugged him, drinking in the clean baby smell of sweet breast milk on his breath. In April, when everything was bursting with new life in this great invisible land they were approaching, she would give Richard a child like this, strong and sweet and full of zest for the enchantment of life ... The lookouts sang almost in unison - 'Land Ho ... land on the larboard quarter.' Jones burst from the poop, his face eager, spyglass clutched in one hand. He leaned over the side, straining out as far as be could and pressing the glass first to one eye and then to the other. Finally, be leapt down to the half deck and shinned half- way up the rigging where he was better able to see what the lookouts were so eagerly describing. Away on the knife edge of the horizon a fine dark line was materialising. He hung in the rigging, feet and arms hooked round the ratlines, watching intently as the ribbon of land slowly spread and thickened. He frowned, trying to recognise the coast. It was low lying, where it should have been more billy. Slowly the sea changed its colour from grape purple through greeny gray to a yellowish green where it should have remained at inscrutable fathoms. He climbed down, finally, and handed the glass to the waiting Clark. 'You take a look, John. I can't pick up a single familiar landmark so far. Maybe you can recognise it.' The mate was aloft for a good ten minutes before he sud- denly called down. 'There's a large spit of headland coming up to starboard ... D'you remember when we fished once in the New England waters, well south of New Scotland? Fine, full nets we made there, just off Cape Cod. Well, it's my guess that that's where we are now, some three hundred miles to the north of Jamestown.' The passengers, hearing the lookouts' cries, had hastened on deck, hardly believing what they saw. The weakness of their state and the relief of being close to their destination brought 100 the emotion to the surface in them all, and the weeping was greater at this moment than it had been when first they had waved farewell to their families. Becky hurried down to Elizabeth with the sleeping Oceanus, her eyes sparkling with excitement. 'There you are,' she said happily, tucking him down into the carved oak cradle which had been so lovingly kept in readiness for his arrival. 'You see what good fortune he brings us already? I took him up to meet the sun and the gulls, and all in a minute he rewards us with the gift of our destination. Oh, Elizabeth,' she gave her a tight hug, 'it will be so marvellous to step on to land once more.' 'For my money,' Elizabeth said with feeling, 'I shall hope never to make a sea journey like this one again. The only compensation has been this little one, and the hope that things could not get worse so they must surely get better.' Stephen and Richard joined them, heads lowered against the deckhead. They were animated, talkative, as though they were a little drunk. It had now been confirmed that they were definitely closing Cape Cod. Even as they discussed this, they felt the change in the ship's movement as. she changed course and turned south towards the mouth of the Hudson River and the Pilgrims' waiting lands. The weather remained fair with northerly winds as they crept south. The passengers and crew made celebration by feasting from the last of the burgoo, marinated in good German wine, with peas and beans, long dried and growing musty, but still fit for their shrinking stomachs. The privations and strain of the long months eased as they filled the decks and watched quietly as the land slid past them, feasting their eyes upon distant woodland, gold and russet in the chill autumn air. By late afternoon, the lookout reported a tide and shoals ahead, and soon the sea began breaking up sharply beneath Mayflower's hull, then quite suddenly they were in turbulent water. Jones, eyes glued to the sea before them and shouting in- structions to the helmsman, groaned as the lookout yelled, 'Broken water ahead ... rocks visible and submerged ... tide race to south south west.' The turbulence stretched as far as the eye could see and then the cloud came down and a few heavy drops of icy rain fell on them. It was the last straw. Threading his way through the treacherous rocky waters, Jones eased Mayflower round and made for the calm unfurrowed sea from which they had come. As night closed in on them, they cleared the area, and every seaman on board breathed a sigh of relief and crossed himself. The passengers were only aware that they bad been obliged to turn away from their destination and were making their way back up the coast. There was fierce argument that night for the first time in several weeks. The apathy had dropped from them all, and every man and woman seemed to want to make him or herself heard. There was grudging agreement that it would be foolish to risk shipwreck in those boiling waters, especially as the weather was blowing up now and visibility closing in on them. Captain Jones had been quite right to change course when he did. Voices were raised in conflict, however, over what course was the best for the next move. Billington, predictably, was the first to put into words what had been in the minds of them all, especially those chartered to Jamestown. 'Look 'ere,' he said to Brewster, after fidgetting his way through the evening Thanksgiving. 'You be at liberty to pray when and where you like as long as you don't expect me to tag along to that plantation of yours. My fare was paid to Jamestown and if Master Jones thinks he has other plans, I and my friends'ere mean to change'is mind for'im.' 'You must do as you see fit, of course, Mr Billington,' Brewster said courteously,hiding his natural antipathy for the man's rough manners and coarse tongue. 'However, please let me point out that this ship was chartered by my own group for the purpose of taking us to our permit holding. That we still hope to do, but until decisions are made between the cap- tain of the ship and myself, your proper representative is Mr Martin here, and he accepts the final word of the captain and my council.' Billington exploded, banging his fist on the bulkhead. 'Once my feet are on that soil, I take no order from any of you . . . d'yer hear? It's Jamestown for me, the best way I can get there if this ship won't do the.job.' There were angry rumbles and murmurs of assent from among those who pressed around him. 'We got trades to go to there, Mister. We ain't goin' ter tarry among a lotta prayer merchants, waiting for Indians to convert! Brewster had suddenly had enough. 'Let us sleep upon this one, friends,' he said, smiling round the long room at them all, 'We have had very many trials and tribulations and are sore in need of Mother Earth and fresh water. Tomorrow morning, we will discuss every detail and maybe the weather will have 102 improved so that we can have another try to reach all our destinations.' He left them and made for the Great Cabin, deep in thought. Presently he sent his sons, Love and Wrestling, with messages, asking Captain Jones and John Carver to join him when they were able. Carver soon appeared and by chance Standish and Martin came after. They sat on the damp and, by now, mouldy mattress, which gave refuge to the Brewster children and two other small boys who travelled in their care. The room smelt, as the others did, of the long weeks' accumulation of damp and dirt, human sweat, and stale urine. They had gathered instinctively to discuss the possibility of landing to replenish their water and wood. This was not Virginia where they had rights and a legal land holding. They were approaching New England lands, and Sir Ferdinando Gorges would not take kindly to the news that one hundred and two fellow countrymen li~d landed on Plymouth Company property and might even have made trade with the local Indians. It began to dawn on the four men as they talked that if they landed in Cape Cod Bay in search of the badly needed water and fuel, they might find that the deteriorating weather would hold them there, and that they would have to find a suit- able place - and prepare to settle there, applying to the New En-land Council at their earliest opportunity to explain their position and to apply for a patent. That being the most likely course, then there must be law and order among them from the start. In Leyden they had lived together in complete har- mony, united by their faith in Pastor Robinson's interpretations of the Bible and by their self-imposed discipline. Here, there would be others who were not only of other creeds but furiously angry, quite understandably, over the change of destination and the loss of expected jobs and planned futures. 'The more I look at this question,' Brewster said gravely and speaking directly to Martin, 'the plainer it becomes that we must draw up a form of compact, stating our intentions clearly for all that will sign it, so that we may live by the proper laws laid down by the English Parliament and under the ordination of a properly elected body of representatives. Without such a document, my friends, I think it unlikely that we should be able to exist without fatal friction and discord from the first day! Martin agreed readily. The wisdom of the Elder's words W I were more than clear as the discord had already been ringing in his ears with first one and then another Jamestown passenger seeking him out to ask how he proposed getting them to their destination. Without Jones's word on this, there was nothing that he, Martin, could do other than bow to the results of voting and hand over his responsibility as their agent. They were still going through the details of all points that would be raised and covered the next day when Jones arrived. 'We are hove to for the night,' he said, 'and will press on at first light as the mercury is dropping like a stone and we're in for another stormy period.' He sat himself down on a stool as they made room for him by the Brewsters' heavy table. He looked at them, seeing their solemn faces, and his eyes twinkled. 'A council of war already, I see.' 'On the contrary, Master Jones,' Carver returned quickly, his thin, rather pursed lips broadening into a gentle smile, 'A council of peace is the business in hand.' Jones knew what they would want of him, and he had con- sidered his answers carefully after examining his stores, consult- ing his charts, listening quietly to the comments of his crew - and considering also the position of those who had to get to Jamestown, three hundred miles to the south. He waited with head inclined as first one question and then another was fired at him. How long would they have to stay in the bay? Could they still rely on getting to Jamestown? Were there any trading posts in these waters? Would it be possible to hail another ship if they saw one going in the right direction? Finally they gave him a chance to answer them. 'Gentlemen, don't think that I haven't been putting these very questions to myself also. I have been doing so ever since I was forced to come north again to get out of those devilish Shoals, and since it became clear that we must run for shelter in the nearest haven while the weather is bad.' He sucked at his empty pipe, pulling on it thoughtfully, frowning over his thoughts. The wind had begun to whine in the shrouds and pick at the furled sails outside. 'I had intended that we sail on south and deliver you and your people to your patent lands, reaching the mouth of the Hudson in a little over two days from here, then carry on to Jamestown to disembark the rest of the passengers. However, this was not possible as the waters from the heel of this cape 104 down, almost to the mouth of the river, are much more treach erous than I had imagined, with dangerous shallows and hidde reefs, and finally the weather has broken. My only course woul have been to put right out to sea again and add a possible eigh more days to our sailing time. Now this I cannot do. My stock are running low for the return voyage as it is, something whic I'm sure you may have overlooked. It means though, that cannot go south to Jamestown. My proposal is to assist you t find a suitable area for your habitation (Captain Smith suggest a couple in his map of the Cape), restock my barrels with frest water, kindling and whatever we can find in fresh fruit - anc bid you farewell before the winter blizzards prevent me froff. making for home at all.' He looked at the four faces, registering their own reactions of exasperation and dismay at his words. 'I really am extremely !oath. to do this thing, gentlemen, but you must understand tha it is )ust irresponsible foolishness to be sailing in these waters in full winter, and I am not prepared to risk my ship and the lives of twenty-six men and one hundred and two passengers in order to put you down further south.' 'Mr Jones, this land belongs to the Council for New England and the Plymouth Company,' Carver said, filling the heavy silence after Jones had stopped speaking. 'We have no patent to settle here. The land is unknown to any of us and it will take many months before we can even exchange communications with them. If we have to establish ourselves here and are then refused permission to stay and colonise, what will be the out- come? Where would we go, and how, without more funds, could we transport ourselves to Virginia and our own land?' 'I know, sir.' Jones's voice was heavy with his regret and concern for them, but remained firm. There were no altema- tives for him either. 'But you must see that each day now takes us further into winter, and there would be little difference where you spend the next few months from now on, Here, at least, we are almost arrived and you will be safe, your people not at risk. I cannot accept responsibility for them now as I have to consider the safety of my ship and my crew and for them, I am answerable to my partners in England.' 'Mr Jones, why have you brought us here at all when our destination has always been made clear?' Martin asked, his brick red jowls bulging. 'You are an experienced master and 105 John Clark and your other officers are capable navigators. Why have you decided to land us so far north in the first place?' Jones turned to him impatiently. 'Mr Martin, I must have answered this question a hundred times, and the answer is always the same. You must have been aware of the bad weather conditions we have been battling against for the past four weeks? It is necessary, as I have said many times, for us to take sun and star sightings at least four times every twenty- four hours in order to make an accurate landfall. Since we did not set out on the journey at the right time, we went right into weather in which we could not use our instruments. As a result, navigation has not been possible, and in the circumstances, it is extremely fortunate that we are only a couple of degrees north of our destination! Brewster said gently from his quiet corner, 'We have to thank you for getting us here at all, Mr Jones. Do not think that we are lacking in gratitude. It is simply a daunting thought that we now have this great ocean at our backs - and a bleak, empty winter terrain before us, where we had expected houses and people, and a welcome after our travail! He held up a large sheet of parchment upon which be had been writing. 'If we are to stay on these shores, then it is necessary to have a proper shape to our community from the very start. There are those of our number who, because of their distress and frustrations, will make discord and unrest among the people, and this is something that we simply cannot afford, on top of all the other problems which will no doubt be await- ing us. It is therefore my proposal that a simple covenant along the lines of this rough draft, be read, agreed, and then signed by the head of each household. For those who will not sign, then they must make their own arrangements and go elsewhere.' Jones watched the four men leaning over the document, straining in the dim light to read Brewster's spidery writing. They would be sailing their ship into dangerous waters, as he would also be doing, and here they were - ensuring that every crew member recognised and respected the captain's authority. It was a language he understood and supported. He listened with growing approval as the structure of that authority slowly evolved. He would be speaking to his own men before & night was out, but now it was wise to sit and quietly listen. His thoughts trailed ahead to the morning's instructions and his body ached for the taste of fresh food. 106 jagged silver streaks sliced night to ribbons. The world glim- mered with another November dawn; deep indigo lined with pearl, shafts of watery daylight stained with drifting cloud. A chill wind rattled the bones of the shrinking trees, stripping the last of their summer foliage and ruffling the surface of the restless sea. The men and women stood against the wind, waiting for the first light to show them the truth of the word. Chapanuk had bade them wait upon this day for Kytan commanded it, and Kytan was all powerful, all creation. He had made warning to them through the-old man's voice, and the Sun God would make the meaning plain to them. They stood respectfully be- hind the old man and waited. Chapanuk stirred, his lined face lifted like hewn brownstone smelling the air, seeing with senses tuned on what lay away in the black void beyond the hilltop. He had felt their coming over the weeks, the months - gauged their size, their number; felt their strength and their weakness. They were not as the others had been. They were more, many more, and there were women among them, and children. There were divers colours to them, but the colours were mostly good. He strove to know Kytan's reasons for their coming. Without Kytan, of course, they would not be here. He had sent storm and sentinel but still they came, the sea opening before them, showing them the way. There was one such as he among them. He had sensed the uncertainty of youth in the probings of that mind. It had not yet been fully understood that the mind knew no language, and that all was one. He felt the night paling through his sightless eyes and slowly lifted both arms above his head. Aspinet stood behind him. He watched the old man's arms rise like branches of a tree stirred by the wind, and raised his staff, the shells and bone beads that decorated its length clicking and jingling as the breeze caught and played with them. The men and women leaned forward, heads bowed in homage at the moment of the day's birth; then, as Chapanuk called the sun to rise, they raised anxious heads and strained their eyes to scan the dull grey expanse of the sea. It was there, just as he had said it would be and a low keening began in their throats. The great sea bird of the strangers lay off the cape, little more than a dark smudge in the twilight, but becoming clearer by the minute. Sails furled, three tall masts spiking the dawn; a chunky wooden creature riding at anchor below. 107 Chapanuk turned to face them, one hand held vertically across his face, the other stabbing the air in front of him. The murmur of the people died away. 'Come,' he said, 'it is the time now for us to travel.' Part Two THE LAND CHAPTER ONE the water froze him, driving the breath from his chest with bands of ice, but he kept moving, gritting his teeth to keep them from chattering. He splashed and waded, his feet sinking into the muddy sand as he and the others struggled from the gig across the shallows to the beach. Firm ground under the feet ... good solid Mother Earth at last. He turned round to watch the others coming up out of the water behind him, feeling the same excitement that he was feeling, since they slapped each other on the back, stamped on the wet sand, and shook the water from their clothing with great wide grins at each other for the very joy of it all. God, it was good to feel stable ground beneath them again. Miles Standish looked about him, searching the empty beach for signs of life. The silvery sand flowed away from them in an undulating pennant,. to disappear round the next little head- land. There was no sign of life, save for the noisy gulls screech- ing out over the water. The sands sloped upwards to a shallow cliff on their left and disappeared into high grasses to their right. He started off up the beach towards the grassland, stamp- ing his feet to control his trembling leg muscles, musket slung across his shoulder. 'Come on there! His impatient voice cut across the group' pleasure and they quickly turned to follow the solid little figure plodding grimly up the sandy slope. It was hard going tryin~ to. scramble up the sliding sandhills. They were weighted down 'With their helmets and metal corselets, their rapiers, muskets powder flasks, shot pouches and pikes. It didn't help to discove that they still felt'the ship's movements and, leg muscles weav ing, staggered dizzily after Miles. He strode doggedly ahead, ignoring his own discomfort. H( was in his element at last, leading his men, alert for unknowr dangers, free and full of purpose. He kept the men close to him steely blue eyes missing nothing under their hew sandy brows Scrubland only at this point, a copse of leaning conifers to their left, bent landwards by the winter winds. There were fifteen men in his party, young and as fit as the voyage allowed. They were thin as scarecrows, dry skins flaky and scabbed with sores, but their eyes-were bright as they looked about them at this great continent of all their hopes. This was the first step and no time must be lost in discovering what this sandy claw of land held out to them. There had been a meeting of all passengers at dawn, as the ship got under way and sailed slowly under single canvas into the wide Cape Cod Bay. Elder Brewster bad led them in prayers of thanksgiving for their safe arrival and afterwards had begun to tell them of the council's meeting and discussion. There bad been a stormy response to his words; a furious out- cry from Billington and many of the single men, and a more restrained but equally positive reaction from the heads of most of the Jamestown passengers. The excitement of the previous day and close proximity to dry land at last was lost in the heat of their anger when it was further discovered that Captain Jones was declining to move his ship out of the protection of the bay until the weather improved - and then it would only be to return to England with all speed. The shouting and clamour from the Jamestown passengers slowly abated into a sullen silence while Brewster talked on, going over the alternatives for the winter months ahead. This landing had not been of their planning - or of anyone's, save possibly the Divine Will - and that being the case, there was nothing to do now but pick up the pieces of all their plans and try to make the best of what they had. He began to describe the structure of establishing a new community and all that it entailed. Finally he took from John Carver a large sheet of parchment and held it up for all to see. 'I want to read this out for every man here to listen to and digest. It is a solemn covenant, for without a compact of this kind - even for these few winter months, it will not be possible for us all to live together in unity! His voice rang with a bell-like resonance which carried over them all and on out into the cold, empty bay. "In the Name of God, Amem- We, whose names are underwritten, the 7oyal subjects 112 of our dread Sovereign Lord, King James, by the grace of God of Great Britain, France and Ireland King, Defender of the Faith etc.... Having under- taken, for the Glory of God and advancement of the Christian Faith and honour of our King and Country, a voyage to plant the First Colony in the Northern parts of Virginia, do by these presents solemnly and mutually in the presence of God and one of another, covenant and combine ourselves together into a Civil Body Politic, for our better ordering and preservation and furtherance of the ends aforesaid; and by virtue hereof to enact, constitute and frame such just and equal laws, ordnances, acts, constitutions and offices, from time to time as shall he thought most meet and convenient for the general good of the Colony, unto which we promise all due submission and obedience. In witness thereof we have hereunder subscribed our names at Cape Cod, the 11th November in the year of the reign of our Sovereign Lord, King James of England, France and Ireland - the Eighteenth, and of Scotland the Fifty-Fourth. Anno Dom. 1620.' When he had finished reading, he lowered the thick parch- ment and raised his eyes to them all. There was a moment's stunned silence, then William Mullins called out angrily, 'I can't sign that, Mr Brewster. My family and I have no wish to become part of a religious sect, even though we have enjoyed both your company and your sermons. I'm a commercial man, sir, and my future and my family's future has no place among your community! 'We understand that, naturally,' Brewster said gently. 'No one more than I wishes you well when you all finally get to your destinations. However, in the short term, it is clear that we are isolated here together and must winter as a group in Cape Cod. It is those months that I ask you all to consider. Continue your journey by the soonest means, but until that chance comes, let us have order and agreement between us all.' 'What's to stop us going overland if we've a mind to it?' shouted Billington. Elder Brewster looked over the heads to where he stood, red faced, halfway up the f oredeck ladder. 'Mr Billington, have you examined a map of the area?' Billington hesitated and finally shook his head sullenly. 8 113 'Then you can't know that the land stretches south for many hundreds of miles and is cleaved by the wide and unfordable River Hudson. There are no trading posts set up by the fishing fleets south of this area, and if there had been, the ships would have long departed for home until the spring. So you see, there would be no vessels or friendly Europeans to come to your assistance during such a trek.' The arguments, the shouted threats and insults filled the air for the next hours but, at the end of it, John Carver spread the covenant out on one of the crates, called for quill, ink and sand to be brought - and put his own signature to the document. William Bradford followed him, and then young Edward Winslow. With complete faith in their elder and bowing to the superior wisdom of their deacons, all the Leyden men came forward to add their names. 'I'm totally confused,' Stephen said to Richard. He stood to one side, still furiously angry with the way events had gone against them. 'I can certainly see the intelligence of his words but I just can't accept that Jones can simply dump us here and abandon us to the mercy of the weather and the savages! Richard bad only met his kinsman twice before the start of the voyage but had formed a favourable impression of Jones's ity. integri and skill at sea. He knew him to be a hard man, but also a conscientious master and devoted family man. If, there- fore, he felt that he was doing the wisest thi ng for everyone, then it was probably so. 'The immediate future begins to look pretty bleak, I agree,' be said, 'but what alternative is there? Every day takes us deeper into winter, and I feel that we shouldn't hang about the ship arguing when we could be look- ing for fresh water and spying out the land.' I Mayflower turned into a small cove, giving them protection at last on all sides. They heard the clatter and rattle of the anchor chain as it was winched down, and the splash as it hit the water. It seemed to take the last protest from their mouths. The English passengers moved slowly forward with bleak faces and joined the group waiting to add their names to the ever-growing list of signatures. Having committed themselves, they added their votes to the next subject, which was to elect a governor and officials. Brew- ster was naturally the obvious choice, but he declined firmly. He was, be pointed out, purely concerned with their spiritual wel- fare in Pastor Robinson's absence, and it would be most im- proper that he should also be asked to care for their temporal 114 needs. Finally a show of hands elected John Carver. After that, it was a simple matter to pick the council and decide upon their immediate actions. Miles Standish as their military advisor was asked to select a party of armed men to go out and search for fresh water and fuel for the two cooking hearths. He set about his task with a soldier's relish for planning and discipline, and the chosen unit was ferried across to the shore. The wind blew off the cold sea and a few fat spots of rain begnn to fall. Standish kept the party moving briskly but, even so, they shivered as their wet clothing clung to their bodies under the metal corselets. From the top of the hill, it appeared that they were on a curved claw of land, the sandy soil giving way to windswept bushes and then pinewoods. They sniffed the resinous fragrance in the damp air and filled their lungs with relish. The land dipped before them and spread away to forested hills, with the ocean on their left side and the great sweeping curve of the bay on their right. But for the keening gulls and the bleak wind mourning in the trees, the land lay quietly under their scrutiny, peaceful and empty. They found fresh water and drank their fill before dipping small casks into the fast running stream and corking them well. That first day they filled twelve barrels, which was all they could carry back, since Standish was careful to reserve three men and himself to guard their backs on the return journey. It was not a long march, but their bodies and vitality were at a low ebb and they made slow progress, begging Miles to shorten his pace. They found their way back to the beach to discover great activity all round them. The gig and longboat had been kept busy ferrying all the fit passengers and crew across to the land. The women bore weeks of dirty washing across and set to work with a will, even if it was only to be done in freezing cold water. There were guards posted along the beach at intervals, each man armed with musket, helmet and corselet. Ragged sailors wandered along the water's edge hunting for shell food and finding it in abundance. They filled themselves with the raw flesh, straight from the shell, and collected a large basketful of mussels and clams for the women to make up a fish soup for the evening meal. All who were fit enough were happy to busy themselves in collecting timber, scrubbing the dirty clothing, 115 or hunting among the high grass and straggly bushes for wildfowl. The talk that night was all concerned with this new land. The men pored over charts and tried to recognise the landmarks shown on them. There seemed to be several places that might prove suitable for them to spend the winter months in, including three areas on Captain John Smith's most detailed chart, which had been called London, Oxford and Plymouth. Although they laughed at the familiar names in this distant land, Jones had assured them that the place named after their last port of call was sheltered and had a very fair bay and haven. He was, in fact, keen to take them all across the bay to look more closely at this location, but everyone protested. They had endured more than enough of the sea. In any case, they were more likely, they said, to find the spot they sought by journeying on foot round the bay and venturing up the rivers they came across, in the shallop they had brought with them. John Alden had been hard at work.on the shallop all day with Comin, the ship's ageing carpenter. It was a large boat to stow on a ship of Mayflower's size, especially since the extra cargo from Speedwell had been added. It had, therefore, been par- tially dismantled for the voyage, and the job of rea~s-mbling it would take the two men some time to complete. The following day was Sunday. It had always been a workless day with the Leyden group and the English passengers alike and, by force of habit as much as anything, it was tacitly agreed that it should remain so on this Sabbath. The men exercised along the shore and the women cooked and brooded upon the undoubted hard- ships which lay ahead of them. They tended the sick and gossiped among themselves, worried and frightened of this strange place where only silence reigned, where there were no houses and friendly faces, and where there had so far been hardly a sight of any living thing save the quarrelsome gulls and rich shoals of fish. The sky was leaden, sunless. It looked as though it would snow - but none came. They sat disconsolately 'tween decks where there was more room while the men and boys were ashore. Morning dawned and a biting wind hastened another bleak day into the sky. The women took the rest of their washing across to the beach in the longboat and waded unhappily throuah the shallows, skirts wetly hitched up to their thighs, bundles on their heads. It was almost too cold to do the wash- ing, and their block soap would scarcely lather in the salty 116 water. The wind was too strong this day for them to dry the clothes on the bushes and they had to wring the heavy material out between them and fold them, ready to pile into baskets for the men to carry back to the longboat. There was little laughter and gossip. Already, many had streaming colds and coughs, and those who had joined in the sailors' clam and mussel feast the first day ashore were now suffering the effects of rich food upon semi-starving stomachs. They were all feeling increasingly impatient also when it was realised that for aII their long hours of hard work, John Alden and Comin were o1wiousIv ~,,o;- to tal-e lonc-cr than the six to seven days they had estimated for getting the shallop into the water. Her seams had warped and opened up under the strain of people sleeping in her, and the children playing in her too. Now it looked as though they would be about two weeks before she was once more watertight and ready for use. The two men worked slowly and steadily, the busy sound of saw and hammer echoing across the cove to Mayflower. By Wednesdav~ there was a definite air of tension and in- creasing depression among the company, and many of the men were impatient to go in search of more fresh water and the mouth of a large river which some thought they had seen from the ship as she had turned into the bay. The hours and days hung heavily upon them, though they tried to fill the waiting time with hunting sorties along the shore, and fishing from the gig and longboat. Partridge became a welcome addition to the daily diet, and the sweet smell of juniper wood did much to dispel the ship's rank odours. It was finally agreed, albeit gn idgingly, for nobody knew what danf~ers Iurt~ed in the forests - that a party of sixteen men under Miles Standish should take wearons and enough light provisions for three days and set out to explore the length of the peninsula. They set out with a great lift to their spirits and turned their backs on Mai-flower, riding at anchor in the windswent cove, while Christonher Tones and some of his crew walked the ic ' v beach with John Good- man's two 0 ogs and waved them out of sight. Beckv watched them go from the main deck, Richard among them. She longed to be with them, walking under the nines and Z_ beech trees and smelling the pure, clean land smells in the purged winter countryside. She was sleeping more peacefully these nights, a deep untroubled sleep from which she woke feeling refreshed and strengthened. Her days were busv enough, for there were several very ill passengers, and four sailors had now gone down with the stomach cramps and fever. She had taken to helping Giles Heat on his daily sickbed rounds with Samuel Fuller. Few of the women were fit, but she was daily becoming more concerned about Marv Allerton' one of the Leyden wives, who was expecting a child in March. She was even paler and more wasted than the others, her small burden already drawing from her the few reserves her system tried to store. She crept about the ship uncomplainingly, thin shoulders hunched against the biting wind, trying to control the bound- less energies of her three small children and daily seeming closer to the edge of her capabilities. She had shyly admitted to the existence of a low, gnawing pain in her abdomen, and Giles Heal and Fuller, anxious for the unborn life of one of the next generation, shook their heads and voiced grave doubts. Even Becky seemed unable to ease the woman's condition and had to suffice with taking little Bartle and the girls, Remember and Mary under her wing, so that their mother might rest as often as possible. Isaac Allerton bad not been on the first sortie into the woods and had been most impatient to see the land him- self. He had gone with the Standish party this time, as much to escape the sight of his wife's uncomplaining suffering as to spy out the surrounding countryside. Stephen Hopkins had also gone on this second trip, but unlike many of the wives left behind, Elizabeth bad felt no qualms for his safety and seemed relaxed and agreeable to being swept along with the general flow of events, content in the knowledge that she had Constanta to help her with Damaris and little Oceanus, and young Giles to take care of them all in his father's absence. She was quietly confident that the search party would return to them unharmed. They had surely not come all this way, she reasoned, for disaster to strike as soon as they put a foot on the land. She watched Becky out in the long dormitory of the 'tween decks, taking her time with each sick patient; bending over every one of them with the same concern and gentleness. Cleaning, straightening, soothing with those strong and delicate-shaped hands. Strange how much hardier women seemed to be, in spite of the sheer drudgery that was required of them. True, there were very few of the women who could be described as fit but, except for poor Mary Allerton, thev were not really ill either - simply increasingly dqpressed. She listened to the children up on deck, yelling excitedly over a game of Chuck-Farthing, and the distant hammering from Alden and Comin over the sballop on the bleak shore. It would 118 be a fine boat when they had finished, she could already see - roomy and sturdy with a single mast and five pairs of row- locks. Maybe they would have more luck with fishing from the shallop than the children and sailors were having trying to fish from Mayflower. Becky came down the low decked, dimly lit room, sombre faced and thoughtful until she saw Elizabeth leaning in her cubicle doorway. 'Poor girl, you look as though you have the cares of the world on your shoulders,' Elizabeth said to her sympathetically. Becky shook her head. 'No. Only the cares of these poor souls. I fear for Edward Thompson. He has had his internal disorder for so many weeks that he now has little strength to resist it. He keeps nothing down. It either runs straight through or else fie is sick - and now there is Richard Britteridge with the same symptoms. Surgeon Heal is at his wits' end to case their condition, and my remedies seem to do little to help except to ease their bed sores.' 'I hear that Master Chilton has taken to his bed now.' 'Ali, now that's a different problem. He has been suffering with his chest throughout the voyage and now he is really sick, coughing blood, and I fear that his lungs are badly infected.' C, She sighed and then peered round Elizabeth's shoulder to where the baby slept peacefully in his cradle. 'He looks so well and healthy,' she said. 'He must be the fittest of us all, and not a blemish or a sore on him.' The two bent over him. He lay among his covers, plump and recently fed, a small windy smile playing across his features as he slept, the pale gold down on his pink head showing signs of later curls. They smiled as they watched the fleeting changes in his face, one tiny hand slowly flexing perfect miniatuie fingers like a small starfish. There was a thunder of young feet and three boys hurtled down the ladder and charged past the doorway, yelling. The leader whooped over a sparkling silver fish which he held aloft triumphantly for all to see. 'There's a whole shoal of 'em round the ship,'he said breathlessly. 'Every line in the water's catching them now.' The going was easy. They formed themselves into a single colurnn with Miles at their head, and marched at a comfortable pace along the top of the sandy headland and into the protect- 119 ing trees. It was a little warmer here out of the cutting wind, and they moved in companionable silence, breaking it now and then to point out to each other the familiar sight of this known tree or bush - pine, beech and even chestnut - elder, haw- thorne and vine. Heads turning like weather cocks, they picked their way through low grass and dead bramble, swords clank- ing against their powder flasks and water gourds. A thin sun straggled through the leafless trees above them, lighting the woodland with pale shafts of shifting sunlight. They had not been marching for more than half an hour when Miles suddenly halted them and held up his hand. He put a finger to his lips and stood motionless, head cocked, listetfing intently. The column quickly closed up and came to a halt. 'What's up?' Edward Winslow called from further down the line. Standish gestured impatiently for him to be silent. They stood and listened. The woodland sounds closed quietlv in round them; the distant wind's song high above them, a light trilling of bird song, the rattle and sigh of the trees' empty branches. Somewhere nearby, a woodcock chuntered in the undergrowth. Then the other sound came again. A dog barked . . . then another. The excited sounds became louder, as though the dogs were following a quarry, far across the woodland, away to their right. Suddenly there was move- ment among the trees, and figures seemed to pass between the sunbeams and the soft shadows, little more than flickers at the edge of their straining eyesight. 'Looks like Captain Jones and some of his men with the dogs,' someone suggested in a loud whisper. They waited, straining into the distant trees, but there was no fu4er move- ment, and the sound of the dogs had faded into silence. 'We'll go on,' Miles decided, 'but keep your eyes and ears alert and be as quiet as you can! They moved forward once more, a little shaken by the sight of others where they had begun to think of themselves as being alone. Five minutes later, there was a sudden crackling in the dead undergrowth and a black dog raced through the trees towards them, barking furiously. It circled them, careful to keep a safe distance, ears pricked, nose sniffing the scent of these strange creatures in their metal clothing. As they moved on uncertainly, the air was rent with a shrill whistle. The column came to an abrupt halt and closed ranks. About thirty yards in front, six men stood like statues, staring at them. They were 120 brown skinned, and gleamed as the shifting sunlight played over them. Their jet hair was dressed in different styles, all with meticulous care, for there was much braiding and shell decor- ation. Two of the men were painted about the face and arms with intricate patterns of red and blue. They were all dressed in leather breech cloths. All but one had fur capes about their shoulders, and they were holding their hunting bows tightly. The two groups hesitated, eyeing each other with misgivings. The long moment seemed to drag out into eternity, breaths held. Then the Indians turned and melted into the shadows, whistling again for the rangy black dogs who gave them a last longing look and chased off among the trees. 'After thern,' Standish yelled, 'they must live nearby.' He raced off, his stocky figure lumbering through thicket and bush in the direction the Indians had taken. The rest of the party followed slowly, at an ungainly trot, weighted down by their weapons and bags of provisions. It was no good. They were much too heavily encumbered to give chase, and they soon settled to a walking pace which Miles was obliged to keep too, since he had no wish to lose his own party. He pored over the ground with Stephen Hopkins, finding a footprint here, a broken branch there. They left the wood and the way became sandy again, and the trail easier to follow. They moved slowly down the peninsula for the whole of that day, losing the faint tracks and then picking them up once more. Richard, feeling every bit as exhausted as the others looked, guessed that they must have travelled more than ten miles before the light began to fail and Miles halted them for the night. They sank gratefully down in a small glade, every man feeling the ache in his weakened muscles and the hunger in his stomach. They ate from their rations round a blazing fire of spitting pine branches, placed three sentinels at vantage points - and slept. With the first glimmer of dawn' they woke and gathered themselves to order as the birds set up their morning com- motion in the trees above them. The tiredness and cramps bad gone and they soon set off, eager to make contact with the elusive Cape people and present their peace offerings. Stephen, having spent some time in Virginia, was not only familiar with many of t ' heir customs and traditions, but had also been able to recall quite a lot of their strange monosyllabic tongue. Miles was well aware of their good fortune in this, and was impatient to pick up the trail once more as the sun hauled its way up into 121 the blustery sky. They soon left the pines and came out on to the he,idland of a long creek. They followed the faint evidence of a track until it curved inland once more, pluriging into beech woods where the light was subtly different and the under- growth thicker. The night before, they had finished all their water, assuming that there would be no difficuity in replenish- ing their water bottles - but the land offered them no refresh- ment and they plodded onward anxiously. As the daylight stren(Ithened and the ever-present wind kept up its whirling dance around them, their thirst grew, and it was with relief that they came down intn a Fm:~11 vallvY 1:hcre tile -nth crisscrossed by severil others and then ran on beside a series of small deep springs. They drank eagerly from the sweet tasting water and filled their gourds to the brim. As they picked up their weapons once more and turned to continucalong the path, a deer appeared on the track above them. It paused to gaze at them with soft, sad eyes and was gone before anyone had time to reach for his musket. 'At least it proves that there is game for the hunting here,' Will Bradford said cheerfully, sweeping aside the disappoint- ment of the others. 'If we could bring back even two good carcases, it would give everyone a fine feast and break the monotony of the cooking for tfie women.' He was as concerned as the other husbands at the fast failing morale of their womenfolk. His Dorothy had always been a nervous, highly strung girt and, at twentv-three, was more-apt to fly into a bate than was warranted. All the same, he understood her depression, for they had been obliged to leave their five-vear-old John in Leyden. Like his inother, he was a delicate child, nervy and prone to fevers, and they had feared that he would not survive the first hard year in Virginia. Lookinl- at their present predicament, he was doubly relieved at their decision, since no one could have hazarded a guess that they would end up hundreds of miles from their intended destination, and now be bent on a battle for their very survival. Miles decided that they should give up the chase and try to strike due south which should bring them out of the vegetation and on to the cape shore, where a large fire could be built to show the watchers on Mayflower that they were safe. As this was a prearranged signal with Brewster and John Carver, they set forth feeling the strength return to their bodies and their spirits rising once more. At least they were doing something constructive for they attempted some rough mapping as they went. The little group of fresh water springs was christened Pilgrim Springs and the day stretched out before them. They picked their way over the headland and came down through gorse and straggling vine roots on to the shore where they could see in the distance the curving hook of sandy hills within whose shelter Mayflower lay. They stacked their weapons and set about gathering brushwood. There was no sun now, only the spiteful wind, and low scudding clouds in the sky above them. The icy gusts took the young flames and drew them roaring upwards - away in its funnelling wake. The smoke trailed out in a weaving plume as they left the beach behind, with the bonfire blazing furiously on the empty yellow sands. The old man sat upon his haunches and gazed sightlessly into the glowing embers of his fire. He had been withdrawn from his people for several days now, not even leaving the wigwam for the morning and evening obeisance to Kytan, but bidding Aspinet take his place instead. There was sickness in him, he knew, but he was not yet troubled by it unduly. That would come in the natural flow of time, and he would bow to the will of Manibozho, the Great One. His mind was in ferment. He was absorbing a series of baffling and conflicting impressions from the strangers who had put their feet upon the land. The usual mixture of good and bad influences existed among them, but he was confused and a little afraid of their intentions. Some young braves had brought back the news that the pale faced men were in the north woods and had given them chase the day before. Now, they were making for the Pamet River and had sent up a signal to their companions in the Great Wooden Bird. Oh Hobbamock, keeper of Evil, turn them from us ... Point not this awful weapon of your mischief upon, us who have suffered from their kind already ... The old woman was in distress, begging him to bid Aspinet take his hunters and rid the land of the evil comers who had taken her sons and her grandsons from her . . . but he was afraid. The party of strangers were carrying the long pipes that coughed fire and drove great gaping holes of death into their enemies, and there was no defence against them. Of course, they were being watched and closely followed as they marched south, and it had been reported that there were no less than nine of the terrible long pipes and three shorter ones which were carried at the hip. All were armed with small spears 123 hanging from their belts - and two were being carried that we% nearly twice the height of a man. Sunrise was the only hope for attack, and these people appeared to be waiting for them all the time. He turned his attention to the woman. He had, at last, b able to see her clearly as she set her feetunon the Nauset sll~19'1 She was young. Young enough to be his claulghter - his gran . daughter. Her face was full of weariness and depletion. butshe would be in full beauty again when the warmth 1et,,irned to the Earth and she had eaten well of its ahundance. Her hair - Aiah . . . what a -IorT, of col~,iir t~ar wor-ld !~c wl -n * I I it and long from her shoulders a-,,,d ~flowed with re-~urnecl health, It was the colour of the cbeFtnut kernel when the oviter cover was taken from it. It radiated red and gold fire when the stin lav warm upon her head. It was the most wondro is h'~' h t' had ever set eyes upon. Little matter now that it ad clipped and curled about her head like a beaver hat. His hrirrill vearned to take the head between them, to stroke and comb her hair until the knots and curls were smoothed avviv and i-, h,,, like burnished wood, silky and shimmering beneoth fi;s palms. The strength of the woman's power signals disturbed him,: She had little idea of what to do with them yet, and no kn(VV- ledge at all of her potential, so she gave off spasmodic chare~ which were sometimes quite fri-htening in their intensity, What evil could she not cause if Fobbamock entered her and trrn~d her upon his people. Oh, Hobbamock, Deity of Evil and Dark. ness, rest your spear . . . put vour arrow Lead them from us who are bowed under the yoke of our weakness ... Standish and his partv were rna~ing pro.-ross and d;sc,),,,erv. Thev spent the second ni-ht back bv the frcsh wtiter they had passed after climb~ni-, awfw from tlie cane shore and heading south. Sitting round the fire while c;-ht fit du,!rS turned on an improvised spit, the ' v ex.,im;n,~d their bootv and the day's events. The whole are,) seemeclabundant in wild -'Pes and sassafras which Ni,qf of 9,,irh inestimable value to herbalist$ throughout Europe. Thev had seen plentv of cleer snore round the lake, and guessed that most of tho wild IN", living in the locality must water themselves there. When they ~ad pres~ed on past it towards the now visible mouth of the river thev fiad been seeking, their way had brought them across an open space, 124 11 clearly of man's ma in was all barren soil) a field of some It ul - ted fifty acres, but c g -re had been formal crops c tiva _ertai y v ari~ here, for a f ev d a~c[ cjnpty corn husks told their own ory, Thoughtfully - and with their eyes scanning every bush st they filed out of the field and clambered down aud bank, again at the river's mouth. As they had towards the shoresoft sand was hard golng, and discovered earlier, marching ona ragged scattering Of it. wasn't long bef ore the column became er and further ling, overburdened men who lagged furth He was con- rure of their small le3der* the ramrod fig o keep his pace to pause strained, with the two or three able t d mes to await the arrival of the last stragglers, an-- several ti ground where the earth finally heagreed to return to the higher underfoot was firm. to the headland and struck inland limbed back on s that They c le upon some strange thing d ong its upper lip. They carr. . I gentled to a light breeze, an afternoon. The ever-presentwinc . ined them for the'midday hours. The air was fresh, the stin jo7ours Of pine-, gorse and a faint trace of scented with rich flai t blue canopy was polished to Ike. The sky's distanor an overgrown woodsmo ast Moving clouds. Following . . I silver by f at, f had come upon an open space containing heap track, the party and, each crowned with an old wooden pot after heap of s~ ndered whether this was some upturned. At first, they had we the Indians grew things, and Edward Winslow strange way that ps and scraped the sand away ~d beside one of the heal squatht UndeTnCath, the earth was hard~ and he needed wi th hands it before he could dig lower. In a few to use his dagger to loosen an old bow and rotting quiverful of ,arthed seconds, he had unewere in process of arrows. They quickly decided that they the old disturbing an Indian grave, and Edward carefully laid e sandy ack and quickly replaced the earth and then tb relics b~ , top. They a It crossed themselves and murmured a cairn oil quick prayer for the,dead " embarrassed at having been guilty Of an act of desecration5 ho . wever unintentional. In any case, it was bad luck to tamper with the dead, and bad luckwas the last thing they needed at the moment. They left the burial place and returned to the track which wound Onwards beside the busily rushing river. Shortly, the em beside more open spaces, with an old brown path led th is place had been stubble still standing as clear indication that th und- harvested during the previous summer. The woods surro irg them Were fuU of walnut at this spot, heavy with riPe 125 nuts, and the ground rich with husbanded vines and straw- berries. They gathered as much as they could and moved on, passi . ng small areas of stubble, to a freshly cleared space where there were signs that it had recently been used by inan. They found some flat planks and a large kettle - most clearly from a Christian ship since it was made of heavy iron and was of the design used by all merchantmen in their galleys. There was also another of the sand mounds. This one was freshly laid, larger than the old graves, and with clear imprints of the small hands that had patted and compressed the sand into its neat dime. There was no wooden bowl on this mound, and curiosity made them look furtively about them and, seeing no lurking figures among the trees, they knelt and carefully scooped the sand to one side with cupped hands. Beneath the sand was a strange structure. A mat made of bullrushes and strips of tree- bark had been placed over a pit, which they discovered was lined with the same strong matting. Inside was a treasure of gleaming corn, some still husked, but all as dry and fresh as though it had just been placed there. They sat back on their heels in amazement, for this was surely the strangest granary that they had ever come across. But what a miraculous treasure trove it was. Their own small store of corn was of English origin; a smaller grain than this golden stream that they ran delightedly through their fingers. It was clear that, where their own grain might not yield a good crop in this strange on- English soil, the store before them was pure home-grown corn and would surely provide a bountiful return. They heaped as much of it as they could into the heavy ship's kettle, carefully restored the cache to its former appeararce and, turning their backs on the rumbling river, followed the track as it turned inland, set their faces for home. The shadows were lengthening as they hastened back to the fresh water lake where only the wild creatures came. They shot enough duck for their meal and, with three sentinels on the alert at'all times, ate their fill, relishing the fine flavour of the suc- culent meat, fresh strawberries and pure spring water, Edward Thompson died during the night. His shrunken, ex- hausted body simply ceased to support the ravages of his con- dition. Becky had slept with the Allertons as Mary had begun to bleed, and they feared that the child might suddenly abort. The three children were now fully aware of their mother's 126 si&ness and, feeling the insecurity of their father's absence, they stayed close to Mary's bedside. Becky did her best to keep them occupied and to keep their minds off the strong instinct that kept all three of them pressed close to their mother's side. They accepted her ministrations without protest, allowing themselves to be washed, hair tidied, clothes mended and changed, but stubbornly refused to leave the stuffy cubicle and play out in the larger room. When Giles Heal called her out of the room and told her of Thompson's death, she could see the three little figures huddled beside the bed, solemn blue eyes fixed on the suTgeon's back. It was a desolate farewell. He had come so far only to die before even setting foot upon dry land. As Elder Brewster offered the last prayers with infinite sadness over the slight body, sewn into canvas sacking and laid~ as Will Button had been, on a plank, Susanna White wept into her husband's coat sleeve. Edward had been their servant since the year they had fled the Lincolnshire countryside. He had been a simple, kindly man and was as much a part of their family as any blood member. To see him go now, in this way - a faceless, anony- mous body in a sack about to be tipped into the Cape Cod Bay, was almost more than she could bear. The child, heavy in her as her time approached, stirred restlessly under her rib~s as though to remind her that one soul might be leaving them but his place would soon be taken by another. Becky watched the body in its sack plummet into the grey icy water as the plank was tipped, and sink quickly under the Weight Of rocks secured to the ankles. How many more, she wondered, would follow him into the bay before they found a place to settle in and could wave the Mayflower farewell with- out this awful feeling of apprehension. The women had begun to get restless about the safety of their explorer husbands. It bad been a great relief for them aff when they had spied the smoke signal far down the shore, but there had been no further sign of them, and they should have made a daily bon- fire to show their progress. So many things could have gone wrong; attack from Indians or animals, drowning in the fast flowing river; falling from a cliff ... the women's imaginations, fallow"for so long with their enforced inactivity, ran TiOt With the endless possibilities of their husbands' dangers. Elizabeth and Becky alone seemed serene and untroubled, and it was from them that the children regained their own composure and con- fidence. Becky, hands full as more sickness laid first one and 127 128 then another in his bed, had little time to worry herself over Richard. She felt that somehow she would know if any harm befell him, so close did she feel to him these days. She focused her attention on her increasing patients and the little Allerton children. It had become the favourite pastime to w,,,,Ik along the shore by the hour when the weather permitted. The children were lifted on shoulders across the wide stretch of shallows so that they were still dry when they set their feet upon the sand. As a result, they were less prone to the running colds and feverish chills that the adults were having to endure. They loved to collect the sweet smelling firewood which had to be done three times each day. The galley and 'rween decks hearths consumed quantities of the fast burning wood but now, at least, the decks and cabins were beginning to smell of soft sweet wood smoke and to lose that deeper sour odour of their overcrowded and insanitary conditions. A cry went up on deck and young Giles Hopkins came sliding down the deck ladder, his thin face split into a delighted grin. 'Did you hear it, Mother? Did you hear it?' he said to Elizabeth, and then called down the room to Becky. He hovered at their cubicle door, trying to tell them both his news. 'There was a salvo of shot from across the cove just now and we can see all sixteen of the hunting party across the water. They look like little ants along the water's edge ... they're only about a mile away so they'll be back in no time.' He hopped up and down as he spoke, the lanky brown hair flopping over his forehead and into his eyes. Then he was gone, bounding back up the stairs to scramble into the rigging with the other boys, so that they could the better watch the longboat putting out from the ship's side to collect the explorers. The sixteen men were cheerful but exhausted when they climbed wearily over Mavflower's side. They stood happily, among the pressing crowd of their companions, returning the warm welcome that poured over them from all sides, and tried to make room for their heavy booty. There was the great iron kettle with its golden treasure inside., braces of pheasant and duck, helmets full of succulent walnuts and chestnuts, even a beautiful deer slung across the broad shoulders of Moses Fletcher the blacksmith. Bunches of sassafras hung from their belts, and Edward had brought back four healthy strawberry plants. Becky lay in the curve of Richard's arm when night ended the excited chatter and sent them all to their beds. She pressed her nose to the rough cloth of his jacket and smiled to herself. It seemed a very long time since that other time when her nose bad been thus, when she had wondered as they left Southampton, how long the the material would retain its freshness. Now the smell was different, certainly. But if any- thing, it smelled even sweeter for not only was his personal sweat a permanent part of its fibres now, it also carried the pinewoods. and smoked fragrance of burning juniper. He had been hollow eyed with tiredness but cheerful and enthusiastic about the possibilities in the land'they had passed through. Ile soil was rich and obviously provided fruitful crops, and there was plenty of wild life and fresh water. The snag seemed to be the clear presence of the invisible inhabitants of the cape. If only, he had said, if only they could have made contact with the Indians and shown them that they meant them no harm. In the quality of their association with these people might lie their future chance of survival and later prosperity. 'We can surely exchange one technology for another so that we may all profit and need have no fear of each other, as we obviously have now! He stroked her hair, his mind far away, studying the strange differences in the habits and husbandipg of these unseen people. 'What did they look like when you saw them in the wood?' Becky asked. She had an odd reflection in her mind of an old blind man with a face of carved walnut, black glistening hair hanging long and loose on either side of stern, rock-hewn cheekbones. Broad forehead, thrusting thinning brows over deepset eye sockets; a large thin mouth, straight as an arrow, the lower lip thrusting upwards from granite hard chin and jaw. She must have seen a picture of him somewhere; it had re- mained at the back of her mind but it surfaced now, thrusting itself forward with a vividness that made her blink. 'Well,' Richard had said sleepily, screwing up his eyes as he tried to recall the brief view they had had of the Indian hunters. 'Well built, upright looking fellows they seemed for the greater part. Their skin is darker than ours and seemed to be oiled, for it shone when the sim caught it. Their hair was black as night and much decorated. Some had it cut clean to the scalp on either side of the head, leaving only a strip trimmed short like a brush from forehead to the back of the head. The others wore theirs long and braided with material into two plaits. They all wore odd baggy breeches which came down to 129 their feet. A couple had fur capes, two, I think ... they were armed with a bow and there was an arrow quiver at their backs ... a couple of long spears ... not as long as our pikes though . . . ' His voice trailed off into sleep, and she was left with the image of the old man engraved upon her eyelids. She studied the face since it wouldn't go away. Her atten- tion wandered over the oddly flattened features and rocklike dignity. His mouth seemed to move and utter carefully formed words but there was no sound. Milky cataracts clouded the iris of each eye, but somehow she could see beyond them and knew that the fine eyes were as dark and penetrating as her own. Looking into his regal face, it came to her that he had been overwhelming in his youth and was still truly magnificent. She would meet him one day, and their meeting would be sealed in grief. The days were shortening and the Mayflower passengers shivered under the onslaught of a two-day storm. They were content to remain below decks, heartily relieved to be tossing at anchor rather than hulled out in the teeth of the furious gales which raged about them. Progress was delayed on the shallop at this time but, even so, it was finally emerging as a strong and capacious craft and finally needed only a couple more days of Comin's and Alden's time to complete her. The sight of her near readiness fired them afresh with enthusiasm and, as the gales abated, it was agreed that Miles should lead a larger party of some two dozen men and take them back to the river they had found, so that the rest of the precious corn cache might be collected and brought back to the ship. This time, Christopher Jones was to join the party with his own longboat and nine of his crew. They had been getting every bit as restless and frustrated as their passengers recently, and it was decided that it would be wise politics to invite a Mayflower party to accom- pany them. November became December and with it, the rain squalls turned into driving, slushy snow. The day before the large party departed, Susanna White came to term and was delivered of a son. William, laid low with a heavy chest cold and fever, was with her at the time. The child was quickly christened Peregrine, his birth written into the community's new records. Richard remained on board this time, since so many had volun- teered for the expedition. He leant at the rail with William 130 Mullins and watched the two boats slipping away into the murky, wind-lashed morning. Soon, with the cold eating into him, he turned away - glad for once to be in the shelter of the ship. At least he could make himself useful here, for John Alden was teaching those who wished, how to haft the tools they would be needing for the building of their houses and furniture. c The expedition returned the following day with eighteen of its thirty-four men. The others were camped by the grain store, but the weather was so bad that many had quickly lost their enthusiasm and, half dead with cold, wanted only the com- parative warmth and comfort of the ship. They brought another load of com back with them, and had named the headland upon which the grain was buried Com Hill. They had found more grain pits and more evidence of Indian occupation, but still not a sign of man, woman or child. The sballop set off again to pick up the campers, this time taking with it both Mayflower's mates, the Master Gunner, and John Carver. For four days the ship's'company waited, hourly expecting to catch sight of the two returning boats. Elder Brewster and even Captain Jones began to worry about the safety of their companions. Spirits sank to a low ebb, fed by the appalling weather and their enforced inactivity. The women grew jumpy and strained, quarrelling among themselves and seeing ill omens in every change of the wind as it moaned and ghouled in the ship's shrouds, like all the spectres of Christendom. It was Dorothy Bradford who started the rumour. She came running, grey-faced, through the steerage and into the Great Cabin where the Brcwsters were putting their own small sons and the two little boys in their care through their reading psalters. 'The savages are boarding the ship,' she cried, her pale eyes huge with fright. 'Oh, sir, lock your door quickly for I saw a savage on the fo'c'sle roof. We'll all be chopped to pieces.' Brewster jumped up in alarm and grabbed his short sword. He bade the thoroughly alarmed women and children bar the door securely behind him, and went to investigate. The deck He b- a door s was deserted but for two sailors who strove, against the bitter, snow ; slashed wind to secure some loose jeers. He stood in the lee of the half deck, his keen eyes searching every inch of the foredeck above the galley and crew's quarters. There was no place up there for a man to lurk undetected. Sleet scoured his face, driving him back to the shelter of the steerage. 131 'There was nothing there,' he told them shortly, when his sharp knocking had finally made them open the door to him. He was more than a little irritated with Mistress Bradford and puzzled by her obviously genuine fright. She had been crouch- Ing with Mary and the children behind the table, but sprang up at his words. 'I tell you there was.' Her face worked, trying to keep the tears of shock and relief at bay. Her normal reverence for the Elder broke upon her indignation. 'I came up the steerage hatch stairs to bid you to food ... and I looked out of the open door,*ay to where two poor sailors were getting wet through trying to secure some cargo. Sir, I tell you ... I just happened to raise my eyes above the galley - and there was this tall figure ... a great creature with black hair flying and the cape round his shoulder almost blown away in the wind. He stood there and he was looking straight at me, I know it ... I know he was there . . . ' She stood trembling in front of him, gulping and little short of hysteria. He put his arm about her shoulders to give her comfort and signalled to Mary to bring her a chair. When Christopher Martin, coming in that minute, also went to search the outer decks and came back shaking his head, they gradually managed to cahn her. Dorothy seemed unable to get the incident out of her mind however. She related it again and again until the younger chil- dren and a lot of the women became thoroughly frightened, especially Katherine Carver who, with Desir6 Minter and her small ward, Jasper More, lived in the steerage cubicle next door to the Great Cabin. Without the presence of her husband, and already badly worried about his safety out in the shallop mi such fearful weather, Katherine became more jumpy and nervous as the day wore on towards evening. She found their cabin stiflingly depressing. Desir6 spoke even less these days than she had before the attack on her, and seemed content to sit in her unobtrusive way, gazing into space or with eyes closed, lips moving in prayer. The little boy Jasper had been increas- ingly unwell for the latter part of the voyage, the damp eating into him and convulsing his thin little chest with racking coughs. He was no trouble to any ofethem and never complained of pain or discomfort. However, he daily seemed to shrink a little more and become frailer, and now she had to put him in his hammock during the day as well as for the night. The constant sight of these two sad creatures only added to her own 132 depression - and now it seemed there might be danger up here from the very savages themselves. She tried to exercise reason and sympathy together on Dorothy, but no amount of cajoling or even ridicule would shift her companion's firm and fright- ened conviction that she had seen a savage - and where one came, others would shortly follow. Dorothy herself, having spread doubt and alarm like a forest fire, became so nervous of the upper decks that she was excused her galley duties and stayed down with the sick. Night stole away the day, and the wind eased at last, leaving the ship to ride the icy waters, as the temperature dropped below freezing, and the decks became glasslike where the snow had been blown from them. One of the children remembered that they were approach- ing the Lord's Birth, and some of the older children from the Leyden community began to sing some of the cheerful little carols that were sung each Christ Tide in their dame schools. It started a little competition with the English children, and the older folk lifted their heads from books or sewing in the soft candlelight, to listen with private sadness and bittersweet memories as the fresh young voices sang the carols of their different lands. As more and more children joined in, the heavy yoke of depression and worry seemed to lighten for there had been no music'or song on board for many weeks now. Old Joss appeared from his fo'c'sle comer, his fiddle under his chin, and Priscilla, rising from her seat beside John Alden, went to get her flute and her father's. He was suffering from a heavy cold and offered it to Giles who was, after weeks of Priscilla's tuition, becoming quite expert. Out of the loneliness of their flagging spirits, a lilting flame caught them and gradually the 'tween decks filled with passengers and crew. The volume of their voices increased as they slowly added their own to the well worn melodies and, as their spirits rose, the timbers of the ship rang with the warmth of their feeling. Elder Brewster, poring quietly over a volume of Pastor Robinson's published sermons, raised his head and leant back against the carved turnings of his oak chair to dwell awhile on the rising volume of voices, hearing the tremor as the very depth of their loneliness echoed in their throats and was carried out from the ship and up into the alien air. The sound of singing came clearly across the water. The wind 133 I had almost dropped and was little more than a light breeze, just enough to whip the frozen tree branches into a rattling jingle of accompaniment. The five Indians stood on the shore, looking out across the cove, unseen in the moonless night. The Great Wooden Bird was invisible save where her dirn cabin lights gleamed in fractured reflections upon the water's restless surface. The distant voices had an eeriness that sounded like a paean of worship calling up the spirits of the lost. The hunters backed away into the comfort of the undergrowth, eyes staring. Did the white faces have one such as Hobbamock to guard them? It sounded as though they summoned a great being to their side. They turned and loped off into the darkness, falling easily into the gentle trot which could be maintained almost indefinitely. Chapanuk stirred as the hearth grew cool. He could hear his young grandson near him, the boy's breath light and steady in the wigwam's heavy air. He would be watching the old man, waiting for a sign, for him to speak. He had become Chapanuk's eyes, checking that &.e younger children brought the right herbs, doing the mixing and storing of the ointments and even, under guidance, doing a little simple diagnosis and treatment on his own. Nainas would make a good medicine man one day. He was already acquiring the actor's polish and focus of atten- tion as he intoned the sacred words which must accompany the application of all medicines. He had great patience and was a natural mimic. In another summer he would be beginning 0 command the Tribe's respect. He had no inner eye though, his young Namas. Just two good outer ones and that, after all, was what was required of a good Powwaw. He raised his hand slowly and pointed to the fire, and heard Namas moving on the other side of the hearth, the clunk as fresh wood was placed on the glowing embers - a faint crackle as a twig caught and suddenly flared, followed by another and another. Warmth returned to the air and he felt it building up against his face and the gnarled hands which rested on the caps of his knees. It was a long time since he had moved, and he set about willing the blood flow back into his stiffening joints. He had placed himself on the Great Wooden Bird with some difficulty. In his youth, it had been his greatest joy to move through Manibozho's great creation and time at the simple expression of his own will. It had been possible to sit high in a tall tree, watching the infinite wonder of the world as the 134 birds ahd racoons saw it, creep with timid deer, dance with the rattlesnake. To project himself had been an experience as simple and effortless as breathing, but now - now he found it took long periods of concentration to travel, and afterwards, he was weary in every joint and bone in his body. There would be a time, soon now, when it would no longer be possible for him to perform this simple, this primary exercise of his powers. He had stood upon the smallest deck of the great groaning, breathing Wooden Bird, aware of the ice beneath his moccasins, but not involved with it. He watched as two of the Great Bird's servants wrestled with the ropes that held the white sails when they were unfurled and set to trap the wind. A woman stood in the open doorway across the cluttered deck below him. She stood looking up at him as though turned to stone, waves of terror emanating from her in ripples of vibrat- ing orange. He gazed back at her impassively, interested that she was able to see him, yet not greatly concerned with her. He wanted to get closer to the other woman. She whirled suddenly and was gone in a flurry of skirts. He moved off the ship and looked through the holes in the sides where the light from within streamed out into the flurries of windswept snow. He saw her in a corner of the crowded room, where a man lay with a spirit weak in him. She was tending him as a servant would, cleaning the faeces from under him and making all fresh upon his person. This was not the work for a Powwaw of her degree. Did they not respect the superiority of their chosen as his people did? He caught a glimpse of her face, and found sadness and affection where he bad expected to see distaste and aloofness written upon it. The pale oval was smudged and patchy, weariness cocooning her so that she moved with stiff automation. The man was either asleep or unconscious, for his eyes remained closed and he, made no movement. Chapanuk spoke to her. 'Why do you do such things for these people? Let others less powerful do the menial tasks.' She seemed not to have heard him, and continued cleaning the man's raw buttocks, drying them with a soft cloth and sprinkling some sort of powder on to the angry patches. 'Do not think that you are not understanding me, Winona, for, the language of the mind has no tongue and no barriers! She paused, her eyes lowered to her job, but he could sense that she was finding her way now. She was bringing herself slowly to him. 135 'You do well, Winona ... you are learning fast. It is only age which gives me supremacy. Your power is very great.' 'Who are you?' He heard her voice at last with a great surge of gladness, for it held all the music and beauty that his sight of her had promised. He hedged, unaccustomed to having direct questions flung at him. 'I am wind . . . I am air ... I am the storm that rages round your Great Wooden Bird and rattles its ropes like a dancing skeleton. . . ' The girl gently settled the sick man so that he would not roll on to the sore places down his back. She tucked the covers round him, stood up, and threaded her way through the crowded room between beds, boxes and restless groups. She held the filthy rags and a small bowl of dirty water, and quickly thrust them through one of the open ports. Then she carefully wiped her hands on the front of her brown apron. 'No,' she said calmly to him. 'You are certainly not those things. I have seen you ... I see you now. You are the blind man who comes peering at me all the time. What do you want of me? We are not here to harm you or your people. We only came in here to find shelter from the winter, for we are off our course and now we must wait to go on to our own lands! He laughed harshly, the sound slashing a great chasm be- tween them. 'Your lands? They are no more your lands than these are. The lands you seek are the lands of my brothers. How can you arrive here from distant shores and simply announce that these are your lands?' Becky considered. She stood with her back to the room, gazing out of the open port at the dancing snow. She had never concerned herself with the political aspects of their voyage. That was more in Richard's field. 'I think we come in the name of our God and claim these lands which are nearly empty - so they say - in the name of our Sovereign King James who rules over many lands and seas.' 'He has no place here. This land was created by Manibozho, greatest of all the Gods. It is the land closest to his heart, and we are his people. He would not permit the land to be taken from u's ... nor would Kytan of the great Sun, or Hobbamock of Night and Darkness. They will stand together, and you will be driven from the land! 'Well, what dreadful discourtesy,' Becky said indignantly. 'We only came here seeking shelter. Are you so offensive to strangers that you would turn us out into this awful winter? You can surely see for yourself just how dangerous we are A shipload of women and children and some sick and badl3 ailing men. You can't be very brave people if you are prepared to be frightened of that sort of opposition! 'Winona.' His voice was gentler, the harsh sound gone from it. 'There are men with flaming spears who are, this very minute, robbing our food stores and stealing from our dead! Her eyes looked inward and studied him seriously, without fear. 'Can you really see that? I can't.' He inclined his head, looking through the white cataract of his eyes deep into the warin drowning brown depths of hers 'Well, I'm sorry,' she said simply. 'I know that they hav( been coming back with loads of wonderful grain, but I also know that they have been trying bard to make contact wi your people ever since we first arrived. You must know that if you know the other. They only want to talk about the grain and offer payment and recompense ... but I know nothing 01 the other. Why, they said they found a grave, but were careful to bonour that fact as soon as they realised what it was. I am sure that they would not knowingly steal from the dead your people. We have too much great respect for our own, and this whole community is a deeply religious one you must be aware of that! He looked at her with all the conflicting feelings tugging him in every direction - hatred for the evil of the White Face, exasperation at her ignorance, love of this glorious flower such as he had never known - and fear at the power blossoming in her even as the child she bore blossomed. Angrily, be drove confusion from him and drew his supremacy about him. 'They have put their hands upon the dead son of Aspinet, Sachem of our tribe,' he said with magnificent detachment. 'The great band of death has only left us untouched for two summers past. It laid nearly all our people in the ground, from here northward to the lands of summer snow - and southwards into the land you seek to take. The curse that was upon that boy will strike down those who disturbed his sleep, and who took the winter food from the mouths of my people! - He left her. It was enough. He had touched her mind as a man caresses a young girl and it had left him breathless, the blood pumping fast through narrowing arteries. He remained sitting before the brightly burning fire for a few more minutes, steadying his heartbeats, damping the fire in him. At length he raised his head and said to Namas, 'Help me to my feW She remained stock still, listening to the echo of his voice - feeling the odd excitement the richness of its vibrations stirred in her. Beautiful, blood stirring voice . . . as though he bad put out his arms and drawn her into himself. What could he mean? What was happening out there behind the curtains of snow? As she turned away from the porthole, she suddenly beard Dorothy's trembling voice relating her experience up on the freezing deck, and realised with a shock that somehow, in some extraordinary way, the silly woman must have caught sight of Chapanuk, for there could be little doubt that it was be she was describing so accurately to her alarmed audience. She must be slightly gifted with the Sight without realising it, and the re-telling of the story was beginning to distress her even more than the actual event had. Becky kept a close eye on Dorothy for the rest of the afternoon, noting the increase in her state of tension and rising depression. If she continued in this way, she would have everyone on board seeing Indians behind every coil of rope, and the poor children were begin- ning to feel really frightened as the afternoon deepened into evening. Becky sat with little Mary Allerton on her lap, trying to get the child to go to sleep. She crooned softly, rocking the feather- light body in the crook of her arm. The song was sweet and familiar, and the child's eyes drooped. The melody was a lullaby as old as singing itself . . . the words she threw from her so that they wrapped themselves about the unwary Mistress Bradford, sitting crouched on a heavy box at the bottom of the ladder. 'Slowly, so slowly, my pretty Dorothy, Unwind the threads you are sewing. Lay them agently across my knee, You don't want them where you are going. Softly, so softly, my pretty Dorothy, Sea[ your sweet lips; they're too knowing~ Close them in silence for no one will see, You won't want them where you are going.. I It was Becky who started the children singing. She had dis- covered that both Wrestling and Love Brewster had clear, fluting voices whose pure notes and command of their range brought a lump to the throat. How truly perfect such voices would sound within the soaring rafters of a great cathedral, .138 she thought when first she heard them. Now, sensing the mount- ing tension in the 'tween decks, she said quietly to nine-year- old Love, 'Do you know how many days it is to Christ Tide, Love?' He looked at her startled. He'd completely forgotten about the special excitement and wonder of this fast approaching holy day. The past nine Christmases had been gentle, happy affairs, even if they had not had the money to be able to prepare for days like some of the rich burghers and their families in Leyden. There was plenty of singing and prayers in remembrance of such a special Birth, and though the dining- table had never been over filled, nor had they been showered with dozens of gifts and sweetmeats as some of their friends at the dame school were - even so, they had had great happi- ness together out of the exchange of small surprises, decked the house with red-berried holly and all the brightly coloured branches that they could lay their hands on. They had sat down at the edge of the hearth with Mootsi, their fat old dog, and Pico, the cat, who watched with sleepy-eved interest a they roasted muffins and chestnuts on the end of a toasting fork. There had been plenty of street carolling, and he had been determined to enter the handbells. class when he was twelve years old. 'I don't remember the date, Miss Becky,' he said, treating her to the full charm of his imp's gap-toothed smile, 'but i can't be far from Christ Tide, can it? I can remember lots of carols for that time and so can Wrestling.' ,His gruff little voice was touched with the accents of his Dutch birth, somehow mixed with a light dusting of his parents Yorkshire heritage. All the Leyden children spoke with this odd mixture of dialects, and Becky found it most endearing. The two brothers put their sandy heads together and then ranged up on either side of her as she sat in the Allerton's doorway. They fixed her with wide blue eyes, lifted their well freckled faces towards each other, and opened their mouths together. At the first few bars of the carol, five-year-old Mary Allerton climbed up on to Becky's lap and sat there attentively as the boys' voices lifted over the buzz of conversation down the room and poured over them, out of the open ports, and up through the decking. She put a small grubby hand up to Becky's cheek. 'My mama sings that to us,' she whispered shyly as Becky inclined her head, eyes fixed wonderingly on the two boys' wrapt faces. Somewhere in the room, anoth 139 s t d e s d 0 k b e f d d child joined in, and then another, and they sang the gay little song, the two boys' voices ringing out over the others like bell above a crowd. Mary wriggled down from her lap and wen to her sister, at her mother's side. Why, Becky wondered, ha they called the elder girl Remember? What had been so momen- tous six years before that warranted such a monument? She slipped quietly from her chair, remembering that littl jasper More needed looking at, up in his steerage cubicle. A she made her way towards the hatch, she saw Dorothy Bradfor disappearing up the ladder. How odd when a short time ag in full daylight, she had been too nervous of the upper dec to attend to her galley duties even. She must, after all, have made a quick recovery. Strange though, that she should go up now, just as a rare moment of beauty had entered the dra gloom of the 'tween decks. Quietly, she merged with th shadows as the boys' song came to an end, and a moment o silence was suddenly broken with thunderous clapping an shouts for more. She climbed the ladder up into the steerage and looked about her. The Brewsters' door was closed, an so was the Carters'. She would look in on jasper in a momen The deck was silent, the air so cold that it hurt her chest as she breathed it in. Dorothy was making her way slowly along the deck, walk- ing with measured tread and gripping the cargo as she went. She wore a dove grey gown and dark blue apron, and had thrown a soft red knitted wrap round her shoulders. The snow- wet wood had frozen solid and was like polished glass. She seemed to be sleepwalking, yet she muttercd to herself as she moved towards the ladder leading to the foredeck. All the decks seemed to be deserted. Even the poop was empty, as the two mates were away in the shallop and Captain Jones had just come down on to the lower deck to listen to the boys. She stood in the shadow and watched as Dorothy slowly clambered up on to the foredeck and stood, head flung back, on the spot where she had seen the Indian. Becky heard her speaking, but she was too far away to catch the words. She seemed to be Pleading, for her voice rose with a catch in it and she backed away from the spot, her hands flying up to cover her eyes. She must have missed her footing, for there was a sudden flurry of movement, a sliding thump - a brief flash of white and she was gone, her cry snatched away in the freezing wind. The singing bad begun again down below, with the added accompamment of old Joss's fiddle and a dozen more voices. A tender Christmas lullaby swelled out from the ship and across the water, reaching the cars of the watchers, and mask- ing the splash of the falling body. There were no further sounds from the icy water. Frowning thoughtfully, Becky turned and softly opened the Carvers' door. 'How are you feehng?' she said gently to the sick boy. CHAPTER TWO The exploring party returned in a state of near exhaustion but still triumphant. They had been round the whole cape encountering their first Indians, and successfully beating off a night attack by them. They had finally, after all kinds ol alarms and excursions, landed in the wide harbour of the place named Plymouth on John Smith's map, and found it ver3 much to their liking. Everyone's heart lifted, for it was the first piece of positive good luck to happen to them since Mayflower's lookouts had sighted land. On 15th December, two days after the shallop returned from across the bay, Mayflower weighed anchor and sailed out into the head winds, and the sandy, cape hook dwindled behind them. Depression remained just below the surface of their hopes, for everyone was still in a state of shock over the unaccountable drowning of Dorthy Bradford, and two sailors and little Jasper More who had died shortly after. Will Brad- ford had been on the discovery expedition and had remained in a state of stunned silence since his return. That none of them would ever learn the actual circumstances of her death simply made the whole tragedy the harder to bear. It was assumed that she must have had some sort of brain storm when she reported seeing the savage, and surely fell over- board during another later the same evening. He accepted the 'heartfelt sympathy of his companions with wretchedness and gratitude. There was so much illness and imminent death about them. Soon, poor Dorothy would simply be a number in a list of statistics. The going was slow with Mayflower stoutly beating into a gale, so that night overtook them and then morning again before John Clark sighted the two arms of land that marked the entrance to the bay of their winter shelter. They quickly discovered that the problems of shallow water were as irksome here as they had been from their Cape anchorage, and they would have over a mile to row between the ship and the shore. They put out small exploration parties to investigate the Plymouth shore, the island that the first party had landed on, and even sent a boat up the deep water river at the far end of the bay, where Captain Jones felt they might feel more secure. There followed three days of discussion and the sort of argu- ment that they were growing accustomed to by now, but in the end, it was decided to use the area already cleared by earlier Indians, close to the shore and well protected by two small hills. Sunday interrupted their plans, and they forced themselves to be patient, observe the Lord's Commandments, and read their Bibles. The gale, which had obliged Jones to put out three anchors to hold Mayflower, suddenly blew itself out, and Monday was upon them. The small party that had put out from Mayflower on. the Saturday to look more closely at the Plymouth terrain bad been marooned for the whole of Sunday as the gale blew up into one last great crescendo before collapsing. For the whole of Saturday night, they bad huddled under the trees in a small copse of young and delicate birch. It was not until Monday morning that they were, at last, rescued by the longboat and shallop full of pilgrims and crew eager to survey the land closer. Frozen and ravenous, they were taken back to the ship to dry out, take some hot potage, and get a little sleep. Christopher Martin was one of the party who never recovered from that drenching. ,In the middle of all the confused comings and goings, Mary Allerton quietly gave birth to a premature son. He was still- born, and wasquickly sewn up in a canvas shroud and put over the side - the first to settle, but at the bottom of the harbour, He was followed by James Chilton, his poor skeletal body too weak and lungs too congested to cope with any more bad weather and sea voyages. Richard Britteridge followed and Becky, in despair, began to wonder whether any who became ill had a chance of survival. Richard had gone ashore with the second boat and by 23rd December, the whole complement of fit men among the passengers and some of the crew had 142 joined the shore party. They went to work at once. They cut down trees and sawed them up, so that a first communal building and a gun platform could quickly be erected. The gun platform went up first, since very clear descriptions bad been fur-nished of the Indian attack on the sballop party, and it was quite apparent that they were even now in the woods around them, watching the activity - and possibly waiting for a moment to repeat their attack. Their high-pitched, warbling shriek had twice been heard inside the forest, and had sent them running for their arms. It had seemed to be sent as some sort of warning. On Christmas Day no man let up from his work. The busi- ness of putting a roof over their dripping heads was of even greater importance. The Lord, said Elder Brewster, would understand and would surely provide. Many of the women came ashore and set to work beside the men, helping to carry and stack the sawn timber. The covered platform for the ordnance was to be sited on a bill overlooking the shore and the brook. It was a natural observation post, a wide area sur- rounding the site of the future village, and the piles of prepared logs grew, while some were used to erect a temporary shelter for those who were picked to stay overnight, guarding the site and their working tools. On Christmas night, all but twenty men returned to the ship where deer and duck were eaten, and the day was remembered. Stocks were getting low by this time, and were causing Jones considerable concern. Both he and his crew were more than anxious to unload the ship and put back to sea before any more delays overtook them. It was noticed, however, that four more seamen had reported sick during the day. Priscilla and Becky had been among the first to set foot on dry land here in the new bay. Young Mary Chilton claimed to be the first female, she said, for she had jumped ashore from the prow of the shallop when it had raced in on the first Mondav to rescue the half dead exploration team. She had leapt from the boat on to a great granite boulder which stuck out of the plunging spray like a giant's stepping stone. It adjoined the land and was to prove a useful landing place for the shallop to use in future months. It lay at the mouth of the freshwater brook whose currents kept the sea bed in that part well scoured of sand, and allowed the boat to come in close to the shore. Becky was particularly eager to get a break from the ship as she was daily becoming more depressed by the need to give 143 so much of herself in compassion and the care of her patients. Richard had quickly given in when he saw her need and noticed the new lines of strain that were forming round her tired eyes. Even one day would be better than nothing, and she went across in the shallop to join Priscilla, who had already been working on the mainland for several days. In spite of the howling wind and driving sleet, she found herself getting used to the feeling of being permanently wet to the bone and freezing cold, and had found to her surprise that her spirits were daily rising, and the strength returning to her body. John Alden and his three assistants were tireless tree fellers. They worked from tree to tree, selecting the strong weathered trunks, and directing four of the older boys in tackling certain of the saplings for pole work. The men formed themselves into groups to cut and saw, carry and stack, and by 28th December they had enough wood to begin the first building. By January 3rd, the women and older children were set gathering reeds and high grasses for thatch and, at this point, Standish took a party out to try to find the Indian village from whence they had seen smoke rising. With gifts and hopes of a friendship treaty, they were determined to make every effort to forge an amicable alliance with their neighbours. After two shore visits, Becky gave in and stayed on board. Among the new sick was Christopher Martin, and he was daily becoming more seriously ill. Marie sat with him, day and night, her face drawn with worry and grief at the sight of his pain and fever. The fight bad gone out of him. The florid jowly self-indulgent face became sunken and pallid, shining in the cold heat of his fever. By 8th January, Governor Carver was sent for, so that Martin could make his will and settle his accounts. He died quietly, without offering another word of complaint, two days later. The extreme cold and impossible conditions were begin- ning to take a toll among the land workers also. The new Common House, as they came to call it, was soon packed with sick beds, as first one man and then another collapsed under the work strain. Among the sick in the Common House were William Bradford and then Governor Carver himself. Finally William Mullins gave in. He had never fully recovered from his feverish chill in Cape Cod Harbour, and now the illness returned and took a more virulent turn still. Becky, on May- flower, had her hands full of sick women and children by this time, while Giles Heal reported that Mayflower could forget about her sailing plans for a while, since more than half the 144 ship's company was sick with one complaint or another. The winter was taking its toll. Chapanuk watched over Becky's toil. She could feel him whenever she had time to think and, when she slept, the pit of weariness into which she sank was often shared by his presence. 'Why do you haunt me like this?' she asked once in exaspera- tion, for he never interrupted her in her work now, never even spoke to her unless she spoke first. 'I am watching the work of my gods,' be said simply. 'The land does not want you. Hobbamock will destroy you, and Kytan will avenge the robbery of my people's winter food, while Manibozha has already avenged the desecration of the graves and will finish his work, Winona. You must tell your people to go ... they are not wanted here.' 'They can't go. Look around you. They have no food. Your gods, whoever they are, have made sure they can't move from here by shutting us in with this terrible weather, and now our people are so weak and depleted that they are mostly too sick to sail the ship, even if the weather allowed it. So please, Chapanuk -please tell them to stop.' He looked at her sadly, though his face was carved of stone. 'We do not want your people here,' he repeated. 'Tell them to go.' Marie Martin fell ill soon after her husband died. She had valiantly tried to stave off her illness, working with Becky from morning to night with the sick, so that she might not feel the pangs of loneliness that swept over her in the night hours. All the same, she collapsed while attending to one of the sailors, and Desir6, Becky's other assistant, helped put her to bed. Desir6 had joined Becky down in the 'tween decks now that Katherine Carver had gone ashore with Alice Mullins to look after their husbands and the other sick men in the Common House, and to see to the cooking and sparse comforts of the tired men. The Common House was about twenty feet square and, as soon as the thatching was complete and the door and window shutters fixed, small homes for the rest of the community were begun. It was agreed in council that each family unit should own its own house and, for the time being at any rate, the unmarried men (other than the servants who naturally went into the unit of the family to which they were contracted) were persuaded to lodge with one of the families. One by one, the homes took shape and began to form a wide street down the side of the hill which overlooked Town Brook, as the little river was soon christened. At the summit of the hill, the ordnance platform overlooked them all. The Common House was built below it, and the smaller houses grew in two lines below the two buildings. Francis Billington made a vital discovery at this time. Always curious about anything that was just out of sight, be climbed a high tree one day, eager to scan the countryside. He looked out over hills and forest glades, dense woodland and open common, hoping for signs of lurking Indians. He saw no Indians that day, but his keen young eyes spied instead the shimmer of a great lake only a few miles from their village. With the weather far too abrasive and rough for sea fishing, his lake was to prove a godsend during the next desolate weeks. It became a period of struggle and sorrow. The community worked in all weathers, felling trees, cutting and preparing the timber for building, then carrying it the half mile or so between the forest and the slowly emerging village. There, it was placed in the ground and firmly stamped in. The homes that they built were single storied houses, square built, with thatched roofs and two to four rooms inside. As the whole complex was being erected on the side of a hill on which the fort platform stood guard, they had hoped for good drainage of the soil, but since the ground was still hard as stone with intermittent coverings of snow and ice, they were not to know the wisdom of their site the ground. Richard and Becky had a two-roomed house near the bottom of the hill. It was built in the same style as the others, with a stout door and three small windows with double shutters, timber walled and thatched with reeds from the Town Brook. Inside, the place was divided into sleeping and living quarters; the floor was tamped earth, save for the wide stone hearth in the kitchen. The furnishings were sparse, for they bad brought no furniture with them other than their heavy travelling chests and a few pictures. Richard was slowly becoming more accom- plished in making the tables and chairs that they needed, and bad taken a long time in putting together their wide bed. They would be sitting on long benches for many months to come, but the little house was slowly becoming a home, and Becky's few spare moments were filled with sewing the bright crimson brocade she had brought with her to make up into bed curtains. She had, however, only completed one for she occupied most of her waking hours scurrying from one bedside to another. 146 choice until the spring weather and sun warmed The days of all were spent in struggling to keep themselves alive, but the burial ground outside the fort was gaining a new incumbent each week, and sometimes several burials took place between one Sabbath and the next. Christopher Martin was gone, and Marie was gravely ill, doggedly hanging on to life with an unexpected burst of determination. William Brad- ford and John Carver bad both caught the sickness, but now appeared to be recovering. Christopher Jones had taken to his bed, and it was two weeks before he felt sufficiently strong to leave it. It was daily clearer that Mary Allerton would never leave hers. Mayflower had now been cleared of all her cargo and was on the way to being stored for the return trip. How- ever, nearly a third of the crew had been lost in the increasing wave of the general sickness, and there were very few that would not suffer it in one way or another. As a result, there was no hope of the ship putting to sea until the weather eased and the remaining members of the crew had been restored to greater health. Jones worried daily over the plight that he and his men were now in. He saw to it that those who were able, spent their days in healthy and profitable occupations, and hunted, gathered wood, and collected quantities of fresh water for their ever-diminishing companions. Giles Heale had so far been spared, but bad scarcely been able to put foot upon dry land, as be had so many on his sick list. With several volunteers among the women, he went from bedside to bedside but, in spite of his efforts, Marie Martin died one evening at the end of January and was quickly followed by Mary Allerton and then Rose Standish. With Isaac and Miles grieving over the small canvassed bodies, they were buried at sea as the January winds ripped into February. In the village, the Sabbath bad settled into a day which was strictly governed by a set routine. Shortly after dawn, the community gathered outside their cottages and walked with solemn tread tip the hill to the Common House, their Sunday clothes hidden beneath heavy cloaks and thick wool shawls to protect them from the driving rain and swirling snow showers. Most of the men were armed with muskets,'and all carried their swords, as they were fully aware of the watchers hidden from their view among the trees and rocky outcrops. They had caught glimpses of their ncighbours several times when those who were not engaged in building were out hunting. They always tried to call out ' to the fleeing figures, but they disap- peared, melting into the distant trees like grey shadows. At one 147 point, Miles had taken a party in search of the Indians' village. They had found a collection of domed huts made of woven tree bark and deserted, although it was obvious that they had been very recently occupied. They had wandered through the strange hives, calling hopefully to their owners, but there had been no response. They were still dancing with shadows. , Now, Sundays had become more than ever days of prayer and supplication, and even the Billingtons, miraculously whole as a family, felt moved to join their voices to those of their companions to beg for an end to the sickness and deaths of their people, and for the life-giving contact to be made with the invisible Indians. It seemed that William Brewster had a charmed life, as he had so far been spared from any illness, in spite of his age and the fact that his wife Mary and the two little boys had all been sick during the five weeks that they had been off the ship. Though they had recovered, the two small Mores, who were in their care, died shortly after they moved into their houses and were buried at night, as all were so determined that the ever watching eyes should not perceive bow low and weak their numbers were becoming. The Common House was nearer to being a hospital by the first day of Febru- ary, and conditions bad not improved when there was an incident which nearly rid them of their sick, their Common House, and their entire armoury of ammunition. Priscilla stood in her doorway, staring out into the sullen greyness of the day. Clouds rolled in low over the trees and, in the distance, she could hear the now familiar crack as another tall pine heeled over and crashed to the ground under John Alden's axe. In all the time that they had been in this desolate winter place, John had driven himself like a machine, felling tree after tree, sawing, splitting logs for clapboard, guiding the inexperience of his helpers, until he had a team of steady workers who strove to achieve his pace and accuracy. He bad quickly lost his colleague from the ship. Comin bad been one of the first to succumb to the fever, and John had worked on doggedly ever since, helped by Richard and John Howland and countless others, until the sickness took them. The strength in his arms and leg muscles seemed unimpaired by the weaken- ing weeks at sea. Indeed, be had insured that he was kept busy on board, so that he was now one of the fittest in the whole community. Priscilla enjoyed watching him in the evenings when the fast fading light brought the logging party back to the slowly expanding cluster of houses. He would walk up the 148 dirt path between the houses, head high and countenance cheer- ful, in spite of his obvious weariness. His face was becoming weathered and tanned, and his strong brown hair, growing long now, was tied back from his face with a piece of twine. When he returned from the forest and strode up to the Common House where he was lodged, he often called on the Mullins and sat by their fire, talking quietly to Priscilla, lest he disturb her parents who were both sick in their bed. Her young brother Joseph had recently gone to stay with Becky and Richard to lessen the risk of his catching the fever, and so that she might give all her time to caring for them. She and John were becom- ing very close, though no word had been exchanged between them. There would be time when the winter gave way to spring, and the sickness had lifted its weight from their shoulders. As she stood, listening to the distant sounds of the lumber party out in the woods, her attention was suddenly riveted to the chimney of the Common House across the wide path and further up the hill. The usual curling smoke from its timber stack seemed unnaturally thick, and she stood watching it billowing and seething up into the ceiling of low, yellowing cloud, a frown creasing her forehead. Scarlet sparks shot up- ward, and a small flame leapt from the thatch beside the wooden chimney stack and was snatched away by the buffeting wind. She gasped and ran from the doorway, panting up the ~lirt track and yelling as she went. 'Fire ... the Common House is on fire. . . ' Startled faces peered out of doors and windows and, seeing the girl racing up the hill, looked past her to where the single flame now leapt and gyrated, and a tarry plume of black smoke funnelled into the sky. There was a rush of feet behind her as some followed on her heels, while others grabbed buckets and made for the Town Brook. As Priscilla panted in through the Common House door, confusion engulfed her. There were some ten patients in the big room. They were struggling from their beds as the whole place quickly filled with eye-smarting smoke and sparks began to rain down from the thick reed thatching. She ran among the beds and grabbed a man as he staggered weakly to his feet, dragging and half carrying him out into the open air. She turned back, pushing her way against the stream of frightened men and women who poured from the building's only doorway, their faces blackened and clothes already smouldering. Those fit enough joined the bucket carriers and started to throw water 149 F . I over the now blazing roof. Others braved the smoke-filled room and dashed back in to throw out barrel after barrel of ammu- nition and piles of ordnance that had been stored at the rear of the building. For more than half an hour, the whole village worked frantically, dousing the burning thatch and heavy tim- bers beneath. When the last spark was put out, the building remained intact - saved by its green sap-filled wood and the commencement of a timely downpour of rain. That night there were three more deaths. William Mullins was one of them. Joseph had been up the hill with his family and came run- ning down to the Gardenars' house, his small white face streaked with tears. He flung himself at Becky, pulling her up from the chair into which she had just thankfully sunk. 'Come quickly, Mistress Gardenar. Father is sinking and Prissy's at her wit's end with Mother so bad too. Oh, come and help, please, for Prissy says she fears we shall lose them both.' It was to be so, she found when she hurried back with the distraught child. William Mullins had, that moment, stopped breathing, and Samuel Fuller was with them, his ear pressed to the older man's chest. Mullins's eyes were closed, the damp dulling on yellowed cheeks. His gnarled hands lay like stranded driftwood on the blanket. 'He's gone, my dear,' Fuller said with sadness to Priscilla who knelt beside her father, an arm round the trembling shoulders of her small brother. She looked up at him, her wide blue eyes magnified by unshed tears, and nodded, unable to speak. Beside her father, on the other side of the double bed, Alice murmured in the depth of her own fevered state, unaware of her surroundings and her loss. She had sunk into a restless coma the night before, and lay in the gulf between life and death, hands picking spasmodically at the coverlet. Fuller ex- amined her gently, feeling her pulse for the tell-tale flutter and laying a cool hand on her brow. He looked across at Becky who hovered anxiously at the end of the bed, and shook his bead. Pulling himself wearily to his feet he said very quietly, 'There is not long for her here either, I fear. Forgive me, my dear.' Then to Priscilla, 'There is so little that any of us can do to help when the sickness gets a grip as badly as it had done here with your father and mother. I'm afraid you must face the fact that they * ill not be long parted! He squeezed her shoulder as he left the room, burdened by his inability to give more help. His own servant, Will Button, had been the first to die at sea, and his own brother and sister- in-law had been buried only a week ago. Now he was left with his baby nephew, Samuel, who had been put with the Carvers. Here were two more young people who surely would be orphaned within hours. There seemed no end to the frightening loss of life. He left the Mullins's house and stamped down the rock-hard hill against a boisterous wind to see bow the sick Turner family was faring. The youngest boy had died two weeks before, and now the parents and elder boy had taken to their beds, another entire family likely to be wiped out by this accursed sickness. Becky stayed with Priscilla, helping to lay out the dead man and pausing now and then to wipe Alice's burning brow. Pris- cilla moved around the dim room as though she was sleep- walking. Little Joseph had been sent to fetch Elder Brewster and the other deacons who were still on their feet. Becky looked at the girl's drooping shoulders. There was so much death around them that sorrow was fast becoming an indulgence - and yet this family had shown her more kindness than many of the other members of the community who, though they valued the skill she undoubtedly possessed in her work among the living, had all the same begun to treat her with a reserve that she reconised all too clearly. Strangely, her warmest supporter was William Brewster who brushed aside his parishioners doubts concerning Mistress Gardenar. He stoutly insisted that she was a young woman of great humility and natural goodness whose gifts were God-given and who had most surely been sent to them by Him. When Samuel Fuller had fallen ill, it was she who had nursed him with all the attention and selfless goodness of the best of their own congregation. He had re- covered completely, and was with them now simply because of her nursing and their prayers. Beckv watched. the dwindling life around her, thought with fear of Richard out in the forest with John Alden - and caught a glimp~e from the mind of Chavanuk. 'Tell your Hobbamock to leave us,' she begged him. 'What more do you want from us? You know that we are unable to leave here now, so why punish those remaining who have done you no harm? Ile was used to hearing her rail like this at him. Indeed, it pleased him to have her plead. It allowed him a slightly more certain feeling that he had, after all, the upper hand. 'You steal from us and rob our graves,' was the only answer she had. How foolish the old man was and how cruel. Those who bad unwittingly disturbed the graves had long since paid for it and, although they had certainly taken the com, it had not been without the wish to pay for it by honest trading. Would Chap- anuk hold out until they were all dead,as the Indian village had been before them? Chapanuk expressed no interest, and his very indifference made the anger and despair in her rise to. a torrent of fury. 'You force me to fight you,' she said to him. 'I have no wish to cause hurt or trouble to any of your people but if you will do nothing to call off your Devil, then you will see that I can stand up and be equal to you if I must.' He had felt the enormous current of power emanating from her and recoiled, shaken. 'You forget bow my tribe has already suffered at the hands of the white inan,' he said quickly. 'Touch my people and there will only be hatred between us. Your Wantaconog have brought only suffering and sadness to the tribes of the shore lands. How can you expect us to greet you as welcome visitors? The tribes in the forests around you watch every move you make, and even now see how the servants of the Great Wooden Bird bring up big fire pipes and set them on your watch tower, with their mouths pointing at us from every side. Does that mean that there is friendship in your hearts? Do not threaten me, Winona. I shall reject you.' . She had not felt his presence for several days after that encounter and, at first, was greatly relieved. It was not long, however, before she began to miss him. He was often good humoured and full of their different learning. She was also aware of the flame that grew in him for her. He had said that he was old enough to be her grandfather but what did that mean in terms of European years? He was certainly not a young man, yet he was a strong, upright presence, tall and sinewed as a tree, rocklike with contempt for the slightest weakness. His milk- white eyes had colour for her, for she saw inside the blindness to their strength and flashing fire - and beyond the fire was this flowering of something that both confused and delighted him, that turned his thoughts to those of an eager boy before he banished them from his upper consciousness where she could observe them. She hung back from probing these feelings too closely. They were generated for her by herself, she knew, but what he would do about them or how he would finally overcome them, she was afraid to guess at. The evening that Richard came home looking flushed and complaining of stomach cramps, she strove to reach Chapanuk and break his sulking silence. She put Richard to bed in the rough pine fourposter that he had been working on in the 152 evenings. He bad smoothed three of the posts into a silky finish now, and had applied stain and wax so that the graining gleamed and Becky's bed curtain splashed warm red in the bare, silvering room. Richard had worked hard on their bed, making a strong rope webbing within the wooden frame to hold their thick feather mattress, and he sank thankfully on to it and allowed Becky to struggle and ease him out of his working clothes. When she had settled him under the covers, he lay, feeling the heat rising from his body and pain eating at his bowels. He fixed his eyes on the old painting of his father's ship, The Lark, and suddenly he was overcome with the help- lessness of their situation and the awful inevitability of this terrible curse that seemed laid across them all. He turned his bead painfully as Becky appeared at his side again, a small pot of warm broth in her hands. 'Don't look so worried, love.' He tried to smile up at her tired, unhappy face. 'There's plenty of strength in me, and I'll soon beat this thing just as others have done. I'll soon be up again in time to finish the cradle.' He watched her eyes light up briefly, and she bent and kissed his dry mouth. She gave him the broth and stroked his forehead lightly, smoothing the damp hair from it as he dutifully drank. She settled him and left the room quietly. The kitchen was warm and cheerful in the fireglow. Priscilla had heaped her clothing in a corner, since she would join Joseph under their roof until Governor Carver had assessed all their possessions and his will had been carried out. Becky squatted on the hearth stone and piled the glowing embers with fresh logs. It seemed unthinkable that the Mullins should be suddenly halved as a family in this way. Still, at least Priscilla and Joseph were still well, though Joseph looked very peaky this evening, and seemed unable to accustom himself to his parents' death. Other families had been completely erased. All the Tilleys were gone except for young Elizabeth who had gone to lodge with the Whites. Then William White had died leaving Susanna alone with little Resolved and the new baby Peregrine. The four Turners had gone, and Edward Winslow's Elizabeth and now Katherine Carver had taken to her bed. The Billingtons and Hopkins alone seemed to have a charmed life, especially the Hopkins, who had not even had a slightattack of the sickness so far. As Becky stirred a pot of beans over the fire and turned the portion of goose, which they bad been given after one of the hunting trips, the enormity of their position came to her. The little community was dying, and when the sun began to shine upon the land once more, there would surely be no one left to till the soil and plant the crops which they had so lovingly transported from their own world, so full of dreams of a bright. new future. Would she even be alive to bear the fruit that grew so surely within her, which even now stirred and fluttered against her ribs, impatient to grow strong and come out into the light? 'Chapanuk, my husband is sick with your cursed fever,' she said into the emptiness. 'I cannot be without him, and we cannot live without the rest of this community. Help us, please . . . ' She waited for him to answer but the emptiness remained. He stood away from her, filled with a desolate sadness, for Hobbamock had spoken, and he was afraid of what he knew he must demand of her. For two days the sickness of others was no longer of interest to her, and she hovered, sleepless and haggard, beside Richard, watching over him and recognising with awful certainty the telltale signs of the disease as they manifested themselves in him, one by one. There was an attack alarm when it was reported that a party of Indians had been seen advancing in the direction of the village, and all men who were able were mustered. Richard was unable to move. He lay, bright eyed with fever, feeling the waves of heat and pain wash over him, as though he lay at the edge of a great angry ocean. When he was able to focus his eyes, they wandered across the room and clung to the picture of The Lark. Another day - and two Indians appeared on a small hilltop overlooking the village from across the Town Brook. There was another general mustering, but the two men didn't run off as they had always done previously. They made instead clear signs that they wished to have a meeting with the white men. It was decided, after some fast discussion, that Miles and Stephen Hopkins should go and investigate, and bring the Indians back to the village with them, if possible. The two men walked care- fully and slowly down the bill and crossed the Town Brook, where Moses Fletcher had placed some large stepping stones. The villagers watched as the two walked slowly tip the bank and on to the gradual incline to where the bushes opened up to bare ground. There, they put down their arms and stood quietly, signalling the two braves to come to them. The Indians stood on the crest of the hill, a small breeze jingling and playing with the 154 shells decorating their spears. They watched the progress of the men in their blackened armour corselets and helmets, as they waved and called to them with their anxious faces wreathed in smiles of welcome. Their faces were impassive, expressionless. Then, suddenly, they turned and were gone over the crest of the hill, leaving nothing of their presence but the distant murmur of voices and the throb of a single drum. Stephen and Miles stayed on the hillside for another half hour but the Indians didn't return. That evening Richard's condition started to deteriorate fast. His bowels became uncontrolled and he started toVomit a hard black substance. Becky crouched beside him, listening to his restless movements and hearing the little catch of pain in his laboured breath. Far away beyond the trees and small hills, the sound of drums floated across to the listeners in their wooden houses. The men and some of the women primed their muskets and kept them close to their sides. 'Chapanuk, speak to me,' Becky said in her mind. The despair was heavy in her and, hearing nothing still, great sobs suddenly shook her, and she buried her head in Richard's shoulder. He put up a hand and stroked her, the effort making the sweat stand out from his forehead .'Don't worry! His voice was like dry leaves crackling. 'This is the worst bit. I shall be better in the morning.' He had floated away into a doze. 'Oh Chapanuk I curse you ... I curse you with everything within me if you let him die...' The cry echoed down the dark tunnels and Cbapanuk shivered, the skin at the back of his neck prickling, as though a snake slid across it. 'Winona,' be said, 'Hobbamock has said that he will lift the death from the man in your house - but be will take a forfeit.' 'I don't care what he takes ... take me ... take me ... just don't hurt Richard any more.' In her panic and relief at hearing the Indian's deep voice once more flooding through her, she cried the words aloud, hitting the side of the bed with clenched fists. Cbapanuk looked at Becky kneeling beside the bed, her body half stretched across the unconscious man, long tendrils of chestnut hair spread like a spider's web across them both. The life stirred in him, pumping the eager blood and sending the fire through him for her. He bowed his bead and said, 'It is Hobbamock, not 1, who strikes a bargain, Winona. I would have nothing harm you in all my lands, for you are beautiful as 155 a swan bathed in Kytan's rising glory, and your power is for- midable. Hobbamock will take from you what he wills, and make you a sign in exchange for the life of this Scammon.' His voice was sad because he was no longer young as the man in the bed was, and he would not have been able to sustain her as the power increased in her and his own waned. He watched her as she tucked her cheek into Richard's shoulder and the long curl- ing lashes closed over the great haunted pools that were her eyes. He was as good as his word. In the morning, Richard's forehead felt cooler and the vomiting stopped. She washed his face tenderly, planting little butterfly kisses on his brow, his nose, checks, mouth ... and hugged the love for him to herself as be smiled back at her and put a weak hand to her cheek for a moment. He improved slowly, but was not fit to do guard duty when it was decided that this would be a nightly necessity. The drums spoke to each other across the hills when the sun was about to set, and there was a feeling among them all that the Indians were gathering invisibly in the forests around them. Christopher Jones brought over a large minion from Mayflower and helped the men to draw it up the hill and position it on the ordnance platform. He also brought a sakeret, slightly smaller than the minion but still capable of firing distances up to seventeen hundred yards. The two cannons were mounted on marine gun carriages and could be moved from one side of the fort's platform to the other. In addition to the two cannons, the Leyden group had also invested in several patrero, which were much smaller guns with iron barrels and breech-loaded. They were mounted in forked iron swivels set into a wooden pedestal. Since a fair amount of ordnance had to be sold in Southampton to settle some of the group's more outstanding debts, there was now a shortage of cannons and ammunition. The patreros, how- ever, were versatile weapons with an expanding bore so that, not only could a variety of ammunition be used from ball shot to small rocks, but the action of the expanding bore spread the ammunition as it left the muzzle and rained it in a fanlike action over a wide area. The little Plymouth community began to feel less vulnerable, and it was decided that, at their earliest con- venience, a high protective fence should be erected round the whole village. The weather suddenly brightened and it was possible at last to start sowing some of the early garden seeds and to start staking out each family's vegetable and herb garden. A party ventured forth to explore Francis Billington's lake and returned with six brace of fowl and news that deer obviously watered there, though none had been seen that day. On Friday, 16th March, Richard felt well enough to insist on leaving his bed for the first time in three weeks. The day began well with a crisp orb of bright sun soon chasing the clouds from the sky. Twice during the morning, the lookout up on the wooden fort reported Indians sighted, and Richard sat on a chair in the cottage door- way with his dog lock pistol across his knees. The village bustled with life since most of the men who were not on a hunting party up Jones's river to the north were busily engaged on the ten foot timber fence which would do much to make the villagers feet more secure at night. The place was at last beginning to look more like a village under the first proper sunshine to fall upon its roofs since Mayflower's passengers had scrambled ashore. There were now nine houses already built, including the large Common House directly below the fort platform. Four more houses were partly constructed ' and the last of the passengers had been able to leave Mayflower. Each dwelling house had its own parcel of land surrounding it, the size dependent upon the number of people in the family. Stephen Hopkins, therefore, with six in his family, plus two men servants, had a large holding in the centre of the village, next door to the Brewster house. The Gardenar's holding was small, but with the imminent arrival of their first child and with the two children from the Tilley home now lodging with them, they had all the land they could cope with. The sun seemed to bring the will to live back into those who had been hovering weakly between arrival and departure. On this day, for the first time in ages, nobody died. All the same, it had been noted bow many of the women failed to recover when the sickness hit them. By the middle of March, Mary Brewster, Katherine Carver, Ellen Billington, Priscilla and Becky were the only women still on their feet, though Desir6 Minter and Susannah White were obviously recovering from their fevers. Between the five women, they had the care of twenty-three children, ten of whom had already been orphaned - and fifteen sick adults. With the added hardships of their spartan existence, the surviving women looked at the young sunshine with grati- tude, and set about planting their garden seeds. Richard sat in his doorway and watched them, impatient to 157 be on his feet with a good axe in his hand once more, straddling the new timber fence and knocking in the tough wooden pegs that linked one pine trunk to its neighbour. As usual, the lion's share of this work fell to John Alden and to Francis Eaton who, as master carpenter, had helped Richard and many other heads of families to start making their own furniture. Now, with his Y'Oung wife and baby son dead within a week of each other, he silently dug the four-foot holes into which the stockade timber. was afterwards lowered and beat each post into place with a mallet weighted with his private unhappiness. Richard watched him, and then turned to listen to a small linnet sitting in a nearby bayberry bush which was filling the clean morning air with a new joyous song. As his attention fell from the bird, he saw the Indian walking slowly up the wide track between the houses towards him. Namas worried about his grandfather. Since the arrival of the Great Wooden Bird with the Wantaconog and their families, the old man had been restless and almost completely with drawn. He loved his grandfather. They had come together when the sickness had taken the rest of his family, leaving him a child and alone. Now, after four summers and winters, Chapanuk was his father, and he understood the gentleness and affection which lay behind the stern granite exterior of the great man's wisdom and supremacy. There had never been a Powwaw like Chapa nuk. His greatness had begun to show when he was still at his mother's knee and had started unaccountably to converse with the birds and the running creatures. By his fourteenth summer when it was time for his initiation into manhood, his father, the Satchem of their tribe in those days, had taken Chapanuk blindfolded into the wilderness as custom decreed. He was left alone with bow and arrows, hatchet, and his knife, after having removed the covers from his eyes. Then, for the whole of that winter, he bad been required to support himself from the forest when the earth had little to offer and all living things sought meat to keep themselves alive. When spring came, Chapanuk returned to his village strong and straight, with the confidence of his new maturity, and with his winter growth raising his proud and regal young head, shoulders above his father's sub jects. The second half of his initiation had been a mere for mality, although this was the one which so often struck down the fittest - or at best~ weakened the status and confidence of 158 the new brave. He was taken into the forest to seek those root and noxious growths which man and animal alike avoid if the3 would stay alive. Squatting in a rocky place, the acolyte anc his sponsor squeezed the juices from the smashed and bruisec poison plants and roots and collected the liquid in a drinkinE bowl. While hunting the evil roots, the antidote plants had also to be sought, for without them there would be only agony and death. Chapanuk had been at home with all the living wild things o the forest since childhood, and there was no problem for him in this test of knowledge since he already knew more than the res of the tribe put together. He drank the poisons, chewed at the good roots, drank and chewed until his body had learned to accept the poisons without affecting it. At that moment, he was proclaimed to be safe from poisoning by enemies and, with his father beside him, was borne triumphant back to the villag( where the night was made glorious with the singing and dancing and rejoicing in his honour. Being in splendid health and roc like strength in spite of his youth, his reward was Aquidnet fo his wife. She had borne him five sons and three daughters, but when the old Satchem died and it was time for him to inherit, he turned from it and handed his kingship to his eldest son His life, by then, was bound up with the life beyond and the protection and well being of his people and the peoples of al the Algonquain. The Powwaws of the Wampanoag and the Narragansett bowed to him and sought his aid when their own medicine was not strong enough. When he had warned them of the coming of the white traders and they had not understood the danger that these people brought with them until it was upon them, then and only then, it was understood just how close he stood to Manibozho, and to Kytan and Hobbamock. When Uncas as Satchem was his only surviving son, and his other sons had perished in war or wandered away from the tribe, Aspinet was born to Uncas's wife, and in him grew the lion heart of his grandfather but without the sight from the inner eye. From Chapanuk's only surviving daughter came Namas, and then the evil death took the rest of his fine from him. There were only Aspinet and Namas left and, between them, they would re-create him, the small boy and the hard young warrior. Namas's eyes were always upon his grandfather, seeing his magnificence and detachment, and wanting nothing more than to emulate him one day. He was learning all there was to learn about the magic of herbal medicine and the medicine of the 159 deeper magic. Already, he was beginning to practise, since the white clouds had fallen over his grandfather's eyes. Next year, it would be Aspinet who took him to the forests to attain his manhood, and then he would show himself worthy of being Chapanuk's successor. He watched the old man sitting in the fresh air outside his wigwam, his unseeing eyes lifted to the new warmth of the sunshine while his senses absorbed the smells and messages carried in the air about him. He spoke so little these days. Gone were the companionable lessons and beautiful stories of the great gods and the small gods, which had always fascinated and coloured the evenings of his childhood. The old man was away in another place, his body breathing and alive, but empty as it awaited the return of his restless soul. What was he searching for? Maybe he bad wind of his final j ourney . . . The thought alarmed the boy, and seeing the Satchem approaching, he leant over and placed a hand firn-dy on his grandfather's arm. 'Aspinet comes,' he said. 'There are five with him. Will you receive them?' The old man remained motionless. He seemed not to have heard the boy's voice. The breeze played with his hair, ruffling the thin ends, and jingling the wampam shells which hung in coils round his neck and muscled upper arms. A tremor ran through him at last, and be made a visible effort to drag himself back to reality from wherever he had been. He turned his head slowly towards the boy's voice and slightly inclined his head. 'It is good that they come,' he said. There was much to do now, and the first move must be started at once. Aspinet and his attendants stood before him. They greeted him with respect in the usual way, tongue stuck out and a lick of the hand from wrist to finger tip. He gestured for them to sit by him, and they settled themselves in a semi-circle while Namas quickly brought them pipes and put light to their tobacco. They sat smoking quietly until the pipes were finished. 'You come with news from Patuxet,' Chapanuk said, and they bowed their heads before his all-seeing knowledge. Aspinet came to the point. 'I have a messenger from Massasoit, great Uncle. He wishes to know what he should do about the Wantaconog. Daily they build their wooden homes upon the cursed ground at Patuxet, and at night bring forth their dead, even as the Wampanoag did before them. They have sought audience with the Wampanoag in that area, but Massasoit has kept them back in fear.. Now there have come two 160 to Massasoits court who are not of his tribe. They speak the Wantaconog language, for one of them has come from Mon- chiggen where many of the white people trade their fish for furs. The other is Squanto, he who alone survived the Great Death in Patuxet, for he was taken with our own people by the evil whites who stole our men. He has been in many Great Wooden Birds and has lived across the sea in the fair lands of the white men. Now, he too speaks their tongue, and likes them well, for they treated him with courtesy in their land and made him welcome. These two persons urge Massasoit to meet with the strangers and smoke -the pipe in their homes. Massasoit is now worried, for Corbitant is his close adviser and always at his elbow, and Corbitant has great fear that any contact with these strangers will only mean disaster for the Wampanoag. I-Us advice has been, from the start, that Massasoit should gather the whole of his army and march upon these people and wipe them from the land they seek to take for themselves. Massasoit is a wise and cautious man, Uncle. He asks now that you give him guidance.' Chapanuk sucked at his empty pipe, and they waited patiently for his reply. They sat cross-legged with bowed heads as though in prayer. Time passed. The air filled with the chatter of birds, invisible in the trees above them. Far away, a woman called impatiently to her child from the fields at the other end of the village. 'Send to Massasoit my greetings! Ile voice came at last, deeply musical, thoughtful. 'Bid him send one man with the white tongue to make the first move. Bid the man stay with the Wantaconog and talk with them about the land. Bid him prepare the way for others, for Squanto, and for Massasoit himself if the feeling of friendship is genuine in the Wantaconogs' heart. When the time is ripe, and if there is no evil in their hearts, Massasoit will meet and treat with them. From there we will see ... send to Massasoit with this advice now.' He dismissed them and they left him, heads close together as they discussed the wording of the lengthy message to the great Wampanoag Satchem. 'Why are you making a bridge?' Namas asked. 'You have always warned the people of the dangers of the Wantaconog. Yet now you council the hand of friendship. How are these strangers different from any of the others? They have stolen already and chased our hunters. Now they are building 0 over Patuxet on Wampanoag land.' 161 11 Chapanuk smiled thinly and held up a brown veined hand. Had his eyes been clear, they might have held a gleam of humour. 'Do not question greater wisdom than your own. It was not the right time before, nor were they the right people. The Gods have been disturbed at their intrusion and had sought to rid the land of them. Now they are much weakened and are not able to go. They are settling quietly enough and have been at pains to do no more damage. Now is the time to look into their hearts and discover what lies there. They have courage, those people. Courage and their own brand of strength. They also have a powerful Powwaw - a woman with hair like the maple in summer.' His voice had taken on a strange softness as he said these last words, and Namas looked searchingly into the old man's face. For a moment, a look of great longing and vulnerability stole like a passing shadow across the hard chiselled features. He looked like a young brave hungering after a woman, he thought in amazement. The old man's face quickly resumed its impassivity. 'Bring me food, boy,' he said. 'I have not felt hungry for some days, but now my stomach speaks and asks to be filled at last. That is good. We have much work ahead of us, you and I, and both must have their strength and wits about us.' They ate together, fish stew with com meal, and Chapanuk spoke slowly and carefully of the strangers and the contact he had with their wise woman, The Indian stalked confidently up the bill towards Richard. He was tall and square shouldered, bead held proudly. Bow in one hand. Three arrows in the quiver at his back. He was brown and naked save for a breech cloth of fine leather whose fringing scarcely reached his thighs. His skin shone' as though it bad been buffed into a high polish. His face was smooth, high cbeek boned, the nose high bridged and wide nostrilled. Long black shining hair hung to his shoulders at the back, and was cut close to the scalp on either side of his head, and the whole mass fastened off the face with a thin leather headband. He rattled and jingled as he walked, from the loops of bone beads and small coloured shells which decorated him. Richard stared at the man, frozen into his seat, his hand gripping the pistol across his knees. The Indian paused before him. He raised his band, showing the empty palm. 'Good morrow,' he said, his 162 face creasing into a black toothed smile. Richard went on staring, flabbergasted. His mouth fell open, and his hand unconsciously relaxed a fraction on his pistol. 'You speak English?' he asked incredulously. The man's grin threatened to split clean across his face. C I-tam speak white tongue from fishing traders,' he said. 'I come you take me speak your Satchem.' Richard frowned over the words. Satchem ... what on earth did that mean? 'I cannot use my legs ... there has been illness among us. Go up the hill to that large building where the men are standing. Our Governor is there, and will be glad to make you welcome! The man bowed with great dignity, stuck out his tongue - and turned away. 'Hey, what did you have to do that for?' Richard called after him indignantly, but the figure strode away unheeding, up past the houses where the women drew back from him and shut themselves into their kitchens, and on towards a small knot of men gathered by the Common House, swords ready in their bands. He approached them slowly, and a small man stepped from the group and bade him stand where he was and put his weapons on the ground at his feet. The man had red hair covering his head and much of his face. His voice was light, peremptory. Samoset did as he was told. An older man stepped forward and greeted him. He was stooping and emaciated, his thin face almost yellow but for the dark hollows of his eyes. 'Greetings,' Samosetsaid to him, the wide smile creasing his face again as be watched their faces fall open in surprise. 'I come in peace to bid you welcome to our land. I come to seek your reasons for being here, and to offer you trade.' Carver's face relaxed, and he took another step towards the Indian, holding out his band. 'We wish you no harm, no harm at all,' he said, stuttering a little in his relief that they might, after all, be able to converse with these people. 'How is it that you have knowledge of our language? We understood that your countrymen cannot understand us at all! The tall man bowed deeply, stuck out his tongue and licked his band. 'This is the sign of our goodwill and greeting,' he said carefully as the group reacted much as Richard had done to the gesture. 'I am not of these people who are called the Wampanoag. I am Satchem of Monhegan Island, where many of your people come to trade with my people. I have had big. 163 talk with many sea masters, and they speak your tongue. Good, huh? He looked around him and noted the weapons held ready in the hands of all about him, as more and more men hastened up the hill. He looked pointedly at the bow and arrow quiver lying at his feet. 'I come for powwaw. To talk with your Sachem,' he said simply, looking round him at the tense uncertain faces. Stephen moved up behind Carver. 'Satchem,' he said to him, 'means leader.' He turned to Samoset with a friendly smile. 'I have been in your lands before, and I speak a little of your tongue also. So between us, we should soon have a good under- standing of the situation! A chair was brought for the governor and another for Elder Bradford, who joined them at that point. The rest of the group settled down on the hard ground, and Samoset sat cross-legged facing the two chairs. 'me Samoset,' the Indian said, pointing to his gleaming chest. 'You give me beer.' The governor shook his head. 'We have no beer in the village,' he said. 'However, we do have other ways of being hospitable.' He crooked a finger at Francis Billington, who hovered at the edge of the crowd. 'Young Francis, go and ask your mother and my wife to bring some refreshment for our special guest.' The boy disappeared, and Carver turned his attention back to Samoset, whose eagerness to talk was confusing his speech. Sometimes, it was difficult to make out what he was trying to say, but Stephen was able to question him haltingly in his own language, and gradually the story unfolded of the years of the great death, the people's struggles back into fruitfulness, the evil of some of the traders, and the goodness of others. He painted a picture of the sweet smelling, bountiful land and the beliefs and expectations of its people. As he talked, the women crept into the group, their eyes round with curiosity. Some brought food as Carver had directed, and they set it on the ground at the governor's feet. Biscuits with butter and cheeses, a meat pudding and a rack of venison. Ellen Billington brought gin and water, and the children shyly added pewter drinking mugs for Samoset and the Council to use. Samoset tucked into this feast with relish, growling at the hot strength of the gin, but rubbing his flat stomach ap- preciatively as its fiery effect began to warm his inside. He answered the fusillade of questions with cheerful good humour, 164 I i except when he explained that the place they had chosen for their village was the site of an Indian village called Patuxet. Brewster nodded. 'We know that it had been used at one time. That's why we finally decided upon this site rather than another more secluded up the river to the north of here! 'But it would have been better had you chosen that other Place,' Samoset said, his mouth full of cheese. His dark eyes were like pebbles under running water. 'This is a cursed place. Five summers ago, every man, woman and child perished here from the Great Sickness - all but one, and he shall come and see you, as he also speaks the white tongue- Now he is afraid, for he thinks that Hobbmock is lurking here, still hungry! 'It might be, at that,' Billington said from within the press of the crowd. 'We lose one or another of our people with every passing day! There was a stir and Carver shot him a warning look. 'We have lost one or two of our community,' he said smoothly to Samoset. 'But their sickness began before we arrived, and must have been the. result of our long sea voyage! 'We know,' Samoset said. 'You bury your dead at night, and we have watched you.' The discussion continued through the day and into evening when a chill wind gathered, blowing in off the sea. Seeing his nakedness, a cape was fetched and put round Samoset's shoulders, though he protested that the bear, grease rubbed into his skin kept him warm in most weathers. All the same, he was delighted with the cape, and with the portion of roast mallard which Mary Brewster produced for him. As time for the evening prayers approached and the men came in from the logging area and from hunting, Samoset, now mellowed and relaxed with gin, showed no sign of moving. Indeed, as the shadows deepened around the group, be became more and more expansive. Not wanting him amongst them overnight, but also most anxious not to appear inhospitable, Carver suggested that he might like to spend the night aboard Mayflower, to which Samoset agreed eagerly. The rising wind had other plans, however, and the sballop with Samoset, Stephen and'Edward Winslow, had to turn back before it had been at sea for ten minutes. As it was becoming obvious that Samoset had taken a special liking to Stephen, he finally sug- gested that Samoset stayed in his house that night. The other householders breathed a sigh of relief. They had no knowledge of this friendly savage's habits and customs. Certainly, he 165 e 0 s e smelled very strange, and was, by now, more than a littl drunk. As the Hopkins' house had four rooms, there was n difficulty in finding the Indian a warm corner in the kitchen near to tht hearth. He and Stephen talked until the wood had burned away to ash. It was important to discover all that thi man could tell them about the land they had come to, and about their neighbours and the shyness which bad made them hold back from contact for so long. Samoset was expansiv while the gin warmed his tongue, and relaxed his natura caution. He might not be nearly so forthcoming in the morning. Squanto would be an interesting man to meet. He had been picked up with some of the Cape Cod Indians, called Nausets. They had been kidnapped by dishonest explorers and taken back to England where Squanto, at any rate, was set free, and had spent three years acting as Indian adviser to certain busi- ness men in London. He had been treated with kindness and even as something of a celebrity, and when he had finally yearned to return to his homeland, the explorer, Captain Dermer, had offered him a passage on his ship, and brought him back to Patuxet. There, he had discovered the tragedy of his tribe's elimination, and had gone to live at Sowam at the court of Massasoit. His English was better than Samoset's and, even more important, he had greater feelings of loyalty and warmth for the white faces. It had been he and Samoset who had tried to persuade Massasoit to make contact with the new arrivals, but he had hung back until the great Nauset Powwaw had, unaccountably, urged him to do just this. Now, the way seemed open for closer negotiation. , The following morning,Samoset still seemed inclined to remain in the village, but John Carver gently but firmly sent him back to Massasoit with messages of goodwill and a pouch full of small gifts. Samoset had told them that the Nausets were well aware of the theft of their com, and was impressed by the Council's concern and obvious distress that their action had been viewed in such an angry light. He promised to convey a message to them, expressing the Pilgrims' apologies and regret, and of their promise to pay well for the corn, which must soon be planted in the ground. It was, it seemed, all the more regret- table that this should have happened at a place where the people were deeply embittered against the Europeans after the nefarious episode when a Captain Hunt, one of Captain John Smith's sea masters, had carried off many of their people - Squanto among them - into slavery. The Nausets'memory was 166 ~ long, and only the previous year, they had killed three members of Sir Ferdinando Gorge's exploration team. It would be as well to make their apologies through the mouths of those who spoke both tongues. Samoset left them, now the proud possessor of a knife, a bracelet, and a ring, as well as his cape. He promised to return in a few days. Becky watched him go. It bad given her a shock to see him among them, sitting by the Hopkins' fire with Stephen and Elizabeth, and the shyly curious children. She had never seen an Indian until this day, although she had the image of Chapanuk ingrained upon her mind. To see one so similar in their midst, to study the contours of his face and see the hard handsomeness of his race's lean, wide-boned features, gave her a feeling of great unease. It was not that she feared them. On the contrary, Cbapanuk and Samoset both gave out an aura of strength, of rocklike loyalty. There was something about them, all the same, that might somehow become a threat to her, or to the village. When she looked at Richard striving so bard to shake off the weakness that his close brush with death had brought him, she felt a little thrill of dread. Chapanuk had said that his God of Darkness would take the price of Richard's life in some way which would make itself clear in due course. What the price would be, he either didn't know or didn't care to tell her. She must be careful about this strange and ever-deepening closeness with Chapanuk. It could only be misconstrued from her end, and there were too many dangers of interpreting her link if it became known. She had been given an odd look from Stephen a few days before when, without thinking, she had asked, 'What does Winona mean?' He had been surprised. 'It's an Indian word ... means "My Daughter" or something like that. Why~ How did you hear it? Been meeting the Indian braves in the woods, Mistress Mis- chief ?' Becky had blushed prettily and quickly covered up the blunder. 'Of course not, sir. How could you tease me so? It was an Indian who was sbouting. You know how they have taken to calling to each other out in the woods all around. Well, I just caught that one word ... it sounded so pretty, and I wondered what it meant.' 'That was unwise' ' Chapanuk said in her head, laughter in his voice. It was odd how much younger he seemed to her these I days. His face was less lined, and she could see the splendid 167 dignity of his carriage, the wicked sparkle in his all-seeing eyes. The skin was firm on his frame, his movements swift. She felt an overwhelming sense of shelter and safety emanating from him. 'Well, I can't ask you everything ... you might not tell me the right answers. You have a habit of only telling me what you want - and sometimes that's not what I want.' He had thrown back his head and laughed a great deep roar from down in his chest. 'Oh, you make me young again, Winona. Shall I call you instead Nonatum? It means rejoicing . . . or maybe Ponemah. That is "blessed hereafter" . . . Say what you will, little swan of the sunset, and so I shall call you. She considered, head on one side. 'What beautiful names you give each other ... but I think that the first one is the nicest.' He had put out his hand and run his fingers through her hair, his expression half teasing, half serious. Strangely, she could feel his touch, even though he was simply a mirror reflection in her mind. 'How did you do that?' she asked, as the long fingers smoothed the rumpled mop of her fast-growing curls. He looked at her, and the deep pools of his eyes grew and merged into a lake, and she felt herself drawn down into it. 'I fe ' el the sunbird struggling in my chest. I feel the blood coursing like a great river through my veins. I feel my oneness with you so deeply that it is of small consequence to project these feelings further into a physical form. It is something that has not happened to me before ... so you see, you have given me a new and precious gift.' Then he was gone, and she felt emptied of something of overwhelming magnitude. The child, large now within her and due in six or seven weeks, stirred and beat upon the walls of its prison. She hugged the bump to her. 'Hush now, lie still. Your fighting bruises me. You will be free when it is time, never fear.' The sun was making more constant appearances than it had since their arrival, and no time was lost in taking to the land and preparing the soil in the way their forefathers had pre- pared it. The hard ground was attacked with shovel and boe, the clods beaten out, the seeds sown in small troughs and covered. Vegetables went in, as well as a large quantity of herbs for medicinal and culinary use. Most families had included some flower seedlings in their trunks, and these were sown round the houses and would later give splashes of bright colour 169 to the raw, silvering wood of the new buildings. Two days after Samoset left, it was Sunday. When the community streamed out of the Common House after their service, they saw the tall, arrogant figure striding up the hill towards them once more. He was not alone this time. With him came five braves of similar height and bearing. They wore deerskin capes over their shoulders, breech cloths, and three of them had leg coverings of soft leather which looked like long baggy Trish trousers. One had a large swan's feather stuck into his headband, while another had tied his hair into a gleaming knot at the back and dressed it with the coloured shells that they seemed to prize so much. The two groups approached each other with caution. Samoset stopped with his companions, and they carefully laid down their weapons on the ground, as be had done on the first occasion. His welcome was cheerful and friendly, and his blank faced attendants relaxed a little when the sombre coated community responded with smiles and waves in greeting. They relaxed even further when they were con- ducted up to the wide open space outside the Common House and entertained with more of the gin and wheaten cakes that Samoset had obviously been impressed with. They had come, it seemed, to trade, and had brought four fine furs f or the governor's inspection. Elder Brewster took up a silver-grey wolf pelt and ran his hard over its silky surface. 'These are very well cured,' he said, turning over the fur and examining the fine bleached leather. 'We will certainly trade with you, Samoset, but not today. This is our day of prayer, when we rest from our labours and give our minds to the worship and contemplation of our Creator. Come back with these fine furs on any but a Sunday, and bring more with you.' Samoset looked mystified and turned to where Stephen stood. He spoke carefully to him in his own tongue and Stephen answered him hesitantly, repeating some of the words many times. The other braves - two of them had black painted faces - leant towards Samoset, frowns darkening their brows as they tried to understand why trading could be carried out on one day but not on another. Finally, Samoset seemed to accept Stephen's halting explanation, and the broad grin returned to his face once more when Stephen repeated Brewster's invitation to bring more of the furs when they came again., He then made a sign to one of the braves who brought out from under his cape a set of logging tools which bad disappeared a few weeks before _W11"j, 169 I from the felling area. 'We have brought these back to you as a token of goodwill,' he said, holding out the axe and two saws to Governor Carver. 'Like you, we axe sorry for taking what was not ours! Samoset then spoke quickly to his five companions and they rose, picked up their weapons, bowed to their audience, and strode back down the hill and out of the village. 'Why have they left youP Stephen asked. 'Because I will stay some more with you and give you much help, and you will put a jug of fire water in my belly which make me laugh and feel happy.' He had a small pouch fixed to his belt and, opening it, he poured the contents into his palm. It was a fine powder - corn ground well and then used for a variety of purposes. 'That would surely stand in good stead for baking flour,' Mary Brewster said, leaning over and running the stuff through her fingers. There was a general surge. forward from the women, for their English flour was all but exhausted by this time, and Mayflower had run out entirely. Samoset stayed until, by Wednesday, the Hopkins were weary of his company in their house with his insatiable curiosity and endless flow of only partially understandable English. John Carver came to the door where Samoset was sitting comfortably with little Damaris on his knee, teaching her to do the finger weaving that all Indian children learned from babyhood. 'Samoset,' he said, bowing with elaborate courtesy. 'It is time for you to return to your people again, and ask them why they have not returned with their furs as you promised.' He had an armful of clothing which he held out to the Indian, and Samoset put Damaris quickly from him and leapt to his feet, taking the proffered gifts and holding them up with grunts of approval. Stockings, Englis ' h shoes, a shirt and a cloth belt. He had already taken a great liking to Stephen's tall black hat with the green felt hat band, and wore it all day with a goose's feather stuck in the back. Laughing, Stephen had given it to him, and watched him capering around delightedly in it, doing his dance of thanks for the giggling children. He left them eventually with obvious reluctance, promising to return with his friends and the skins. 'Oh dear,' Elizabeth sighed, 'I wish he didn't have to stay with us all the time. He's so inquisitive. His hands are into 170 everything, and he has already asked Stephen to sell Constanta to him.' They had treated the offer as a joke until they realised that Samoset was perfectly serious and quite prepared to become truculent over their smiles. They had then hidden their alarm in quiet dignity and told him that Constanta was already promised elsewhere. This was acceptable to him and the subject had not been raised again. He left the village with long swinging strides, and quickly disappeared among the trees. The Council watched him go. 'I wish we felt a little more certain of Samoset's motives,' Carver said thoughtfully. 'He strikes me as being full of blithe promises, but what's really at the back of it is a wish to come and live here with us.' 'Well, I hope you have no intention of allowing that,' Stephen said quickly. 'He's a nice enough fellow, with a great deal of helpful advice at times, but I get the same feeling now and then that his promises are not liable to be followed by action.' They were proved wrong, however, for the very next morning when the Council of seven was sitting out in the warm sun, working out their stores lists and the mountains ' of foodstuffs needed for the imminent departure of Mayflower, he returned with four braves, their arms laden with furs. After the greeting of tongue sticking and licking which the pilgrims were getting used to by this time, Samoset came forward accompanied by a smaller man. 'Him her Squanto,' he said, giving the stocky Indian a friendly punch on his bicep. Squanto bowed his head and smiled broadly at them. 'Good day, my sirs. I am most welcome to you all. It is good for my heart to see the faces of my friends once more. I have left many fond companions in your great city of London, but here I will do everything in my power to afford you the same hospitality that your people gave to me.' The Council took an instant liking to Squanto. His well muscled, chunky body had the strength of an ox, and his dark gipsy eyes danced and beamed at them in his obvious delight at their company. 'We have brought more furs and some fish too,' Samoset said quickly, obviously anxious that their attention should not de- part from him altogether. They crowded round the Indian group, poring over the furs and finding them all as well cured as the four that had been left behind the previous Sunday. The fish was a large one, 171 freshly caught and cut into convenient portions. The trading price took most of the morning to settle. 'Sirs,' Squanto said, as they sat and took refreshment, 'the Satchem of our people, the Great and Good Massasoit, is waiting nearby with his brother and his warriors.' He put up his hand placatingly as the pilgrims looked at him and each other in alarm. 'Do not be concerned about their presence, for they have come in peace to parley with you..' His words did little to restore confidence, and there was an immediate move to gather in the logging team and those on a local hunting party. A hurried signal was sent up from the beach to request Captain Jones and his crew to come and swell the ranks. As the six men came out of the trees at a run, their saws and axes over their shoulders with their muskets, the waving of Susanna White's red shawl attracted the lookoues attention on board Mayflower, and men could be seen scram- bling about on deck and then climbing down into the longboat. Miles Standish and his cannon crews disappeared up on to t ' he fort platform and began priming their minion and sakers. Children were sent to fetch their fathers' helmets and breast- plates, and the women were instructed to collect all the young and assemble everyone in the Common House, while the sick must be locked into their houses. Squanto and Samoset and the three silent braves sat quietly and watched with interest as the activity grew around them. It was not a bad thing to see how these people prepared themselves and their fire pipes for pos- sible trouble. The longboat bad only just touched the shore after her sprint across the mile of shallows, and sixteen sailors with Jones and John Clark came puffing up the hill from the granite rock mooring. They eyed the Indians with interest, especially Samo- set who was able to greet Clark with pleasure, having met him once before in Monnegan. Squanto, too, was a strange sight, with his body like a small boulder, and his fluent, almost flowery command of English. As they gathered round the Indians, one of the braves pointed down the hill, and every eye followed the brown finger. Where the ground rose up beyond the Town Brook on its far side, a great gathering of Indian warriors was gathered. They stood perfectly still, the light air teasing the beads and shells on their spears and looped about their capes. Only the brook divided the two groups, and it was easy to see the brightly painted face masks, black, white, ochre, yellow and purple. Some carried spears, others cudgels 172 and tomahawks; a few had bark shields. All stood like statues in a semi-circle around two figures who waited out in front, alone. The taller and elder of the two suddenly shouted across the little river and held up his bead-encrusted spear. Squanto rose to his feet and said'eamestly to Carver and Elder Brewster, 'Sirs, Lord Massasoit is before you. He asks your governor to cross the river and speak with him and his brother.'. 'Oh no,' Brewster said quickly. 'We certainly will not send our governor into a heavily armed party like that one ... tell him, I pray you, that he must come over here where we will be glad to welcome him. I don't like all that show of strength at all! 'Forgive me, sir, but your own armament must look even more forbidding with your soldiers aiming the cannon at them this very instant,' Squanto said. 'Please allow me to go and speak with him, and see what can be agreed! He set off down the hill at a run, the three braves close to his heels. Samoset stayed where he was, squatting in the sun- shine, Stephen's black hat pulled down firmly over his ears. He watched with interest as Squanto sprinted across the step- ping stones and climbed the smaller bill to the waiting king. They all watched as he knelt and began to speak. The two lords looked down at him and spoke to each other, then to him, then to each other once more. Finally Massasoit said something. Squanto bowed, rose to his feet, and backed away. Then he turned and raced back down the incline. When he stood once more before the Council a few minutes later, he was scarcely out of breath. His eyes sparkled. 'Sirs. The Great Lord Massasoit understands that you will not come over to him. Likewise, he will not come over here to you. He asks - and I beg you to comply with this - he asks that you send an envoy to parley with him and his brother, the Lord Quidequina. I will stay at his side the whole time.' The Council conferred. It seemed the only possible way to break the present impasse. They searched among themselves for a suitable ambassador, and finally picked young Edward Winslow. He had great natural courtesy and a most pleasing personality, added to which he was in every way a typical Englishman, slim built, light haired, his complexion fair and rosy on this sunny day. He was given some specially fine gifts to take with him. A matched pair of hand knives with finely engraved blades and elaborately decorated iron hilts gilded in L11 floral sprays, and a fine copper chain with a large topaz pen- dant for the king. For his brother, a single ornate dagger, and a tourmeline pendant to hang in hisear - and for both a jar of fire water, a basket of biscuits and a small cask of butter. Edward set off with Squanto without a backward glance. He looked very young and vulnerable beside the square wedge of Squanto as they crossed the river and climbed the opposite hill. With well-placed diplomacy, Edward approached the king and knelt as he had seen Squanto do, gave his obeisance to the tall warrior, and took from Squanto the gifts, which he then presented with a fine air of showmanship. It was obvious that the gifts were well received for there was animated talk between the four men. Quidequina turned and gestured towards the silent ranks of fighting men, and presently one came forward bearing pipes, and another followed with refreshments. The two leaders sat and indicated that Edward and Squanto should do the same. Squanto stayed close to Edward, grappling with the conversation and advising on the correct use of the strange pipe. After over half an hour when the watchers from the village were beginning to shift impatiently, Massasoit was seen to lean across and point to Edward's sword and armour. Edward, smiling a little anxiously, shook his head and said something to Squanto who, grinning, relayed it to the king. Massasoit shrugged and sat back, looking across the water to the two straggling rows of cottages and the half-built stockade. Then he rose abruptly to his feet, spoke to Edward who nodded vigorously - and started to walk down the incline towards the Town Brook, some twenty warriors following close behind. 'Quick,' Carver said, 'we must not seem to lack courtesy. Miles and Williams, pray go down and meet them.' The two men pushed past and marched stiff-backed down the path, swords clashing against their brass and leather powder flasks. Behind them, six sailors with muskets fell in and formed ranks. Edward Doty, the Hopkins's younger servant, appeared at Carver's elbow, his drum slung from his neck. 'Good lad ... good lad,' Carver said under his breath, giving the boy's arm an approving pat. 'This is a solemn moment, and we must effect all the ceremony we can muster.' 'I've got me bugle in me belt, sor,' a young sailor,said. 'Shall I come with you?' Carver smiled at the boy's eagerness and nodded. 'I suggest that the Winslow house shell is used for this meet- ing with His Majesty,' Brewster said quietly, as they watched 174 the two parties meet on the edge of the Town Brook. Giles Hopkins slipped away with the message for the women to pre- pare some sort of sitting facilities, and all,eyes'remained fixed upon the four figures below them. They watched with amuse- ment and approval as obeisances were very elegantly made by the two sailors and courteously received by the Indian nobles. Then, with Miles leading the way and talking through Squanto, they began to make their way slowly up the beaten path. Giles's slight figure suddenly shot out from behind the leading party and whispered to Williams who, in turn, relayed his message to Miles. The small, ginger-haired man glanced up the hill and nodded with a slight smile, then turned back to explain the progress of the stockade, and they paused while he expanded on their methods of construction. Massasoit seemed filled with interest, examining the tough wooden pegs which linked the ten-foot stakes together. Then they were moving once more, upwards towards the Winslow house, where a small crowd had gathered. There was still a lot to do on Edward's house, but the shell was complete and the roof half thatched. Massasoit peered round the building, examining its bare framework of massive comer posts and horizontal front and back plates. He gazed up intently at the heavy pine girts, square section tim- bers, and on one wall that was presently being filled with wattle and daub. He seemed especially interested in the thick- ness of the reed thatching, and climbed inside to inspect the hearth and timber chimney. Here, the women had hastily spread a bright green woollen carpet over the rough earth floor, and placed cushions for the king and their council to sit on. Priscilla stood in the doorway to bid them welcome and, pink cheeked and a little flustered, settled them in the skeletal building. Massasoit strode past her, without looking to left or right, and sat himself in the centre of the circle of cushions, but Quidequina's eyes fastened on her and seemed to stay there. It was clear that he was much taken with her and was drinking in the details of her unusual height, large breasts and small waist, and even the hard working competent hands and the returning lustre of her raven hair, secured with a clip under her white cambric cap. The party settled itself, and then Governor Carver entered the house with his bugler and drummer enthusiastically herald- ing his approach down the bill from the Common House. The two leaders greeted each other as brothers, each offer- ing the other the kissed hands and every show of pleasure at 175 their meeting. Gin was brought, since word of its potency had obviously spread through Samoset. Carver poured a little into a flask and lifted it in a toast to Massasoit, tipping it down his throat in one swift gulp. Massasoit watched the little ceremony closely. When the governor put his empty flask down and smiled encouragingly across the green rug, the king lifted the heavy earthenware jug, carefully poured the fiery liquid into his own flask right up to the brim and, lifting it above his head ~s Carver had done, tossed the whole drink down his throat in one mighty gulp. The English party stirred, impressed with this gesture but anxious to see the tears start from the great man's fine eyes. Not a muscle moved in the expressionless eagle face. He gazed back steadfastly at Elder Brewster and John Carver. A fine sweat appeared on his forehead and upper lip, but there was no other sign that the burning liquid was fuming inside him. Carver called for fresh meat and cheeses, and out- side the house the Indian warriors stood guard, side by side with Mayflower's watchful sailors and Miles Standish's hastily assembled militia. After they had eaten, the two leaders agreed to treat with each other and made their agreements through Squanto. There was no written language in the Indian tongue, so each point was agreed and seconded as they talked. William Bradford, sitting quietly in a comer, wrote down the wording of the treaty for later reference. It was agreed between the Wampanoag tribe of King Massasoit and the Patuxet Community, afterwards called Plymouth Plantation, that: (1)Neither Massasoit nor any member of his tribe should cause injury or do hurt to any of the Plymouth Community. (2)If any of Massasoit's tribe should harin any member of the Community, be would send over the offenders, that they might be justly punished by the Community Council. (3)That if any of the Community tools or property was stolen, Massasoit would cause them to be returned, and if the Community harmed any of Massasoit's people or property, he had the right to punish the offenders likewise. 176 (4)If any did unjustly make war against Massasoit, the Community would go to his aid. If any made war against the Community, Massasoit and his tribe would come to their aid. (5)Massasoit should send to his neighbouring tribes to inform them of this treaty, that they might not wrong the Community through ignorance, but might like- wise be compromised in the conditions of peace. (6)That when Massasoit's tribe visit the Community, they should leave their weapons behind them, as the Community should leave their pieces when they visit Massasoit's villages. (7) Lastly, that doing all thus, King James would esteem King Massasoit as his friend and ally. The momentous meeting ended with the embrace of brother- hood and an almost audible sigh of relief from both the English party and the Indians. The hostages were returned, each to his own people. Samoset and Squanto remained in the Community that night, dancing their rejoicings and delighting in the music made by old Joss with his fiddle, Priscilla and Giles with their flutes and the two boys with their drum and bugle. CHAPTER TIME Mayflower weighed her anchors and sailed out of Plymouth Bay on 5th April. The day was crisp and fine with a light silver blue haze between water and sky. To see the ship leave them now was like saying good-bye to a loved and familiar friend, and, indeed, it felt this way to many who watched her go. They stood along the shore and waved as she dwindled into the distance, out between the thin arms of land which protected them from the worst of the winter gates. There were less than .12 177 half present to say good-bye than had started on the journey, and still there were several sick including William Bradford and Mary Brewster. The ship had left with a skeleton crew, since she had also lost nearly half her complement; the boat- swain, the master gunner, the ship's carpenter, the cook and nine seamen. However, Christopher Jones, looking at the mild weather as the sky settled for a fine brisk month, decided that this was the moment to leave, before any more illness or un- foreseen disaster struck. The farewell became a moving cere- mony, dressed overall in the emotion of a reduced and weakened company who had supported each other through an undreamed of period of adversity, seeing each other die, and helping each other to live. Of the thirty-three surviving adults, eight were still in their beds, seventeen men and nine women watched Mayflower Sail from their sight, her holds empty of the cargo of fish and furs with which they had hoped to load her. There were tears from the women. After the privations of the winter it was somehow unbearable to see part of their now familiar existence slip away before them. The one astonishing feature was that not one of the English passengers had sailed with Mayflower. There had been plenty of discussion and debate when Jones had first announced his intentions. The Hopkins and the Billingtons had been expected to depart, and some of the single men also. It was Elizabeth, however, who made the final decision for Stephen. They were sitting back from the hearth, in spite of the chill April evening filtering cold fingers under the door and between the shutters. It was a pleasant time of day. The light had gone and with it, the working part of the day, so that Stephen and Giles were home with the two servants, Edward Lister and the boy Edward Doty. Now was the time when Elizabeth and Constanta - the evening meal over - could sit in the soft lamp light with their sewing and enjoy the men's company. With the responsibility for their property angling for his attention, Stephen had been keen to take the family back and ship out to Jamestown at the earliest opportunity. Elizabeth put down the fur rug she was stitching together and stared across the long oak table. 'You can't really 'Mean what you are saying, Stephen. I mean . . . you just couldn't be serious in suggesting that, having come this far, with just now the begin- nings of results after all these terrible months, to leave now and make two more trips across that wicked sea, just to claim 178 land which may well be in a worse condition than our good lands here ... How would the children survive another experi- ence like this last? How would V He looked at her, the rush flame gentling the lines of tired- ness from her face and picking up the soft lights in her pale gold hair. What a comely creature she was, even after the hardships she had endured so uncomplainingly. 'I'd have thought that you'd have longed to leave this place,' he said, puzzled at the air of content that hung over her. 'No, it's not like that.' She sat and thought a minute, her fine eyebrows drawn together in a slight frown. 'It's a strange thing, but I feel a sense of companionship with the rest of the com- munity that I never imagined I could feel about people outside our familv and social environment! She leaned forward into the pool 4 light round the lamp and looked across the room at Constana. and Giles and then at the two Edwards' affection and her own special brand of warmth flooding her face. 'We have all bad such a really terrible few months, and all behaved so well to each other through it all. I feel now that I know everyone who has survived in this place. Not just know them, but know all that there is to know about all of them, their good points and their bad. I know for a fact how cour- ageous every surviving man, woman and child is and - don't laugh at me - I feel honoured to live in this community and be numbered one of their company! Her eyes suddenly sparkled with twin stars and she rubbed them with the back of her hand and looked down quickly at her sewing. Stephen stared at her, then stood up and came round the table to her. He leant down, put his arms round her shoulders, and kissed her, first on one cheek, then on the other. 'My love,' he said gruffly, a little catch in his throat, 'that was a wonderful way of putting over a point that I hadn't even stopped to con- sider. I thank you for myself and for all of us.' The two Edwards, red faced and much moved, murmured their agreement. , 'Does that mean that we can stay?' Giles asked anxiously. He was beginning to love every minute of this new, tough n I a en n n e c I s s gold hard he 'I s. 'I, eyeb h"t existence, where boys quickly found their manhood, and even his slight muscles had any number of uses. 'Oh, I know you'd bate to leave, young man ... you too, Doty. What about you, Lester? You have another year and a half to run on your agreement with me. Would it be too un- happy a time to hope that you'd spend it here with us?' 179 Lester shifted his weight from one buttock to the other from his seat on the tamped earth floor. 'Well, sir, it's not exzackly London Town, is it? Can't say as Oi'd loik to stay 'ere all me loif, not boi a long chawk. But Oi'll see me toirn out with you, loik Oi soined for. Missis is roit. It's myde a deal of friendships Oi'd not loik ter bryke now.' He beamed up at them all - a shy man from the inner City of London. Quick- tempered and given to using his fists rather than his tongue, the length of his speech impressed them all. Stephen went out into the night and walked up and down the wide, sloping path, weighing up his situation. The rest of the family waited, nervously, for whatever he decided, knowing that it would be carefully worked out for their own benefit. He was a wise and careful provider, and they thanked God daily that theirs was one of the few families that had suffered no mortality. When ten minutes had dragged into twenty, then to half an hour, he returned. He stood in the open doorway, the damp night air pouring in round him, and looked at the simple room with its silvering timbered walls and the little splashes of colour from the pictures that Elizabeth had b'rought with them. The firelight flickered over the faces turned so tensely to where be stood, and he laughed at the uniformity of their expressions. All right, all right,' he said. 'We'll give it a couple of years and if, at the end of that time things aren't too good still, then we will pack up and move to Jamestown! Constanta and Giles let out a yell of joy and ran round the table to fling themselves at.him. Their noisy happiness carried out of the door and across the street to where the Billingtons were discussing the same subject. There was no real discussion, of course. John Billington was accustomed to making statements to his family, and the one be made now was no real surprise to anv of them. 'We'll stay this time,' be said, sticking his bottom lip out as he fixed the two boys with a bard stare. 'Your mother isn't well enough to move in any case, so there's little we could have done but leave her here, had it been a wiser choice to go.' Ellen beard his words from her bed. How typical of him to make her the butt of his excuses when, in reality, he was thoroughly enjoying this rough and ready man's life ... so were the boys for t bat matter. Now that the sun was out again and they were able to be friendly with the Indians at last, the three of them were out hunting, all day and every day. Nobody thought to 180 ask her opinion on the subject, and at the moment she was feeling far too weak and ill to voice it. For her, there would never be another home like England. Even in the miserable years following her unwise marriage to the bullying Billington, she had had some comfort in the closeness of her brothers and father. Now there was nothing. John and the boys were so quarrelsome and rude to each other and everyone that even the kindly Leyden people tended to shun them, and only Mistress Brewster and one or two of the younger women would offer her the time of day. She dug herself deeper into the flock mattress as a new fit of shivering shook her. Richard and Becky were deep in discussion also. Becky's heart had jumped when Jones had announced his intention of leaving Plymouth the following week. Talking to Richard in the comfort of their small kitchen, he had advised them to return with him. 'You are trained for a harbour job now,' he said to Richard. 'If you stay on here, all those years of your apprenticeship will have been wasted - at any rate, for a long time to come yet.' He looked out off the window at the dying day and the yellowed shallow waters of the bay. His once strong face had lost much of its granite hardness since the sickness had consumed him. He looked grey and old, heavily pouched under the eyes and jaw. Lately he had acquired a stoop, where before he had stood straight as his main mast. He bad aged ten years, Richard thought, since the day they had met on Southampton's New Quay. His hair bad been lightly grizzled then, dark with a peppering of grey. Now, still neatly secured at the neck, it was all grey wiib pure white wings at the temples. Certainly, Richard agreed with all his father's cousin had to say. Even more important to him still, was to go on to Jamestown where he knew that the need for efficient harbour facilities was just becoming felt, and to offer himself now would clearly mean excellent prospects for their future in the Virginia colony. What was there here to counterbalance that incentive? Hard work of a most physical nature rather than one using his good mental processes; deprivation of all kinds for they knew not how long. A too small community which might decrease even more,, so that each male householder must accept the added weight of responsibility for the widows and children. Uncer- tainty ... that was the worst flaw of all. The uncertainty that they would survive at all - that the treaty with the Indians would bold good - that they would finally get replenished 181 supplies, livestock, more settlers from across the sea. It was the manpower problem that would finally decide their future. He pulled at the clay pipe that an Indian had given him Their tobacco was pleasant in flavour, and he quickly took to the habit. 'I think we will stay here this year, you know,' he said. 'Becky is only a few weeks from her confinement now, and I wouldn't want her to come to term at sea with no other woman there to give her help. This place is beginning to show that it has much to offer if we can use the land wisely and foster our relations with the Indians hereabouts. I'd very much like to stay among these Leyden folk for a little longer and see how they manage! Jones nodded, making a face. 'I know. By all the laws of nature, we should all have perished by now. The goodness they show to each other and to us also is quite phenomenal - and their goodness to my ship's company after all the bad language thrown at them is little short of miraculous. There's not a man on Mayflower who wouldn't cut off his right hand for these people. Come to think of it, your Becky comes into that category too, Richard. There's more than one man on board who knows he can thank her for his life, eh?' Richard smiled, the loose skin round his eyes making even deeper crow's feet with his startling loss of weight. The bright blue eyes twinkled. 'Becky has a gentle heart and a great feel- ing of obligation to her fellows,' he said. 'She also has to sur- mount a stumbling block which the sickness seems to be solving for her, we hope.' Jones raised his eyebrows. He well knew that Becky's talents for healing seemed to go several steps further than her bottles of herbs. Giles Heale had several times intimated this during the worst weeks of the winter. He bad pondered this, wonder- ing how Richard was placed in her confidence. Heale was a matter-of-fact young man; wouldn't stand for any banky- panky or any spells and mumbled magics, that was for sure. All the same, there were times when Mistress Gardenar had 'definitely worried him. Those great fathomless brown eyes of hers, for instance. How earnestly she looked at a person when she talked to them. It was quite disturbing, though it seemed that she had no knowledge of the drowning sensation her gaze invoked. She bad a great deal of charm in a shy way, and her pregnancy was beginning to suit her well, since she had been a little too thin for a man's taste before. With that glorious 182 auburn hair, she was certainly enough to put a spell on most men's bearts. 'There were those,' be beard Richard continue, 'who would have reported her to the Court Leit in Alverstoke, where she hails from. Her healing gifts - and she has done naught but good with them - they upset some of her neighbours, and they started to dream up rumours that would have landed her in the ducking stool. We were glad to take ship when we did, I can tell you, though I swear to this day that Becky had no real idea of how damaging the gossips were getting.' He leant back in his seat. Jones waited, puffing blue whorls of tobacco smoke into the salty air. 'It was beginning to get that way here too, you know. There were a few women, silly as hens, who took fright at the use she makes of her hands. Mistress Carver was the worst at one time ... she still is, when anyone will listen to her. She always harps back to Mistress Bradford's death. Said she saw Becky looking at * her in a strange way before she died. Seems to think that my poor lass can put the hand of evil on folk - give 'em a death wish or something . . . anyway, she said as much to Mistress Brewster, and to the Elder too, and to Desir6 and Priscilla and many more. Of course, Desir6, timid like she is, and living with the Carvers too, she seems scared to death of Becky these days, though she says not a word about it - just looks at her as though she were confronting a snake.' He tapped his now cold pipe out against a bowl which held a handful of nuts. The empty shells lay scattered between the two men across the kitchen table. 'Things have been quite a bit easier since Mistress Carver took ill. She won't let Becky near her, of course. Told the governor that she must not cross her threshold, as she was an evil woman. The Brewsters have several times tried to reason with her, since they have been really good to us, and are obviously fond of Becky. They don't feel that she is in the Devil's pay. Mr Brewster went so far as to say one day that as much magic comes from the Lord as from Satan, He's brought over a fine store of books you know, and he and Sam Fuller have several that are concerned with alchemy in all its forms, and the understanding of those who practise it.' Jones put his head back and laughed loudly. 'You're not going to tell me that these people are Holy Witches after all this talk?' Richard regarded him without a glimmer of humour. 'Of ,course I'm not. How could such a thing be when their doctrine 183 is so specific about the over-use of ceremony and ritual in the other churches? What I think they are trying to do is to find out all they can about the sources of all good and evil before actually slating or preaching from the pulpit ... a most moderate out- look, I think, and those who think this way would surely never permit someone with such a debt of gratitude owed by the community to be harassed by those who think otherwise.' 'Is that the real reason you want to stay, Richard?' 'No . . . though it's an excellent one, also. I hadn't really thought about that side of the subject until I started to discuss it with you. No, the real reason mustbe that Becky is too near her time - and I think that this little place might well overtake Jamestown one day, if the men who are shaping our lives here continue to do so.' Jones was not really surprised when there were no volunteers for the eastbound journey. The men and women, though mixed by chance and continually in disagreement still, all the same seemed to have become fused together by their shared situation. Leaving their companions at this stage, they might never be or feel the same again elsewhere. Like it or not, they seemed to have become a firm brotherhood. He prepared for his departure, feeling that be too was loth to say his farewells. In some odd way, the close association with the discipline and piety of the Leyden people had affected him deeply, and his crew also. As the little knot of waving Pilgrims receded and became blurred with distance a few days later, he realised that there was a hard lump in his tbroat. He turned and set his face towards the eastern horizon and home. It was time to turn the land and prepare it for seeding. The Council paced the rising ground and, with the sacks of English grain, beans and peas and the store of Indian corn weighed out, they knew that they had only enough to cultivate twenty-six acres. It would not be enough to feed the fifty or so mouths they now numbered, and the increasing Indian visitors who, fasci- nated by the countless differences in their two communities and the strange implements of the white faces' farming culture, came visiting in twos and threes, and liked to stay until they were gently sent home. An Indian called Tokamahamon struck up a friendship with Francis Cooke and his son John, who had taken John Crackston's son into their household when his father died. 184 Tokamahamon spoke no English, and they understood not a word of Algonquain, but a measure of understanding was soon established between the two boys and the young brave. It was clear that he much preferred their way of life to his own - at the moment anyway, for he gladly accepted when they invited him to stay in the house with them. Squanto was also a frequent visitor to the village, and he found a warm welcome wherever he went. He was tireless in his eff orts to give them the help they so badly needed, both with trapping and hunting methods, and soon in the correct procedure for planting their seed crop. Most of the men turned out with as many shovels and hoes as they could muster when they discovered that the ground, though cleared and used in previous years, had not been husbanded for some time and, as a result, was hard and weed choked. With the young sun warming their backs, all those who were able set to work with a will and slowly cleared three fields between the village and the forest, stretching into the walls of the almost completed stockade. It was back-breaking work, the soil so hard that to shatter its crust required more strength than most of them possessed. Elder Brewster and Governor Carver worked side by side with Giles and Stephen Hopkins, stopping often to mop their brows as they perspired under the increasing warmth of the sun. It took over a week to till the three fields. There were two small ones for the English barley and peas, little more than three acre strips. The greater part of the English wheat had been found to be damaged by sea water, and the small amount which was still good was planted in the homestead gardens. The third and largest field amounted to some twenty acres, so it was left until the others had been hand ploughed, the dry clods of soil beaten out into good, free running earth, and the seeds sewn. Squanto watched this activity with an expression of doubt and thinly disguised disapproval. With so many gulls and woodland birds in the air and such numbers of wild creatures roaming the pine forests in search of food, he said, it was most unwise to sow in this manner. John Carver, the sweat running in the creases of his thin face, straightened his back and dropped the hoe he had been using to trough the loosened soil. 'This is the way we do it in England,' he said to Squanto, a note of impatience sharpening his gentle voice. The Indian was a good man, but sometimes his flow of suggestions were more of an irritant than a help. There was surely little difference in the earth, and certainly the birds were 185 A71 little different to their European cousins. Squanto stood on one foot and then on the other. The Satchem was not pleased to listen to his words, he could see. 'Sir, please me show you how we plant our corn. Then you see my meaning.' Carver sighed and closed his eyes. The sun burned into his head, although be wore his black head cap. It had begun to ache unbearably, and he was finding it difficult to focus on the square brown man at his side. Stephen and Miles had heard Squanto's words and came across the furrows to join them. The same thought as Squanto's had been occurring to them during the last hours, and it would be extremely useful to know how the Indians did their planting, since they were obviously adept at it, judging by the size of their stored crop. Squanto, finding himself with an audience, warmed to the lesson. 'Now, see,' he said, looking at the circle of faces round him. 'These, lands old. Earth sour and tired. You plant good seed here.' He squatted down and began to clear and flatten the two furrows under his hands. When the earth was smoothed in a circle, he began to dig, piling the soil up round the lip of the hole until he had a cavity some eight inches deep. 'Plant your way and little come up in this soil. You do like we do - good strong crop come out. Small hole here, yest? Now take three small fish from the river to each hole like this, and put on top of four ... five seed. Cover up and press down - so ... with the feet so there is small well above for water. Put in the water, and then fill the hole all up so the bird and racoon, be cannot smell and steal.' They quickly saw the point. After all, they used fish fertiliser on their own fields in some sea areas where the soil was poor. 'But where do we get enough small fish from, to put three into every hole in the field?' Stephen asked. The Indian grinned his gap-toothed grin, his black eyes sparkling at them all. 'Manibozbo look after his own,' he said serenely. 'Middle of this moon, maybe three, four days from now, herring come leaping up the river from sea. They make the water foam and chum. They come to spawn in the pond up the river.' The men looked puzzled. They were hot and tired. Strange Indian tales didn't get the work done. Squanto saw the dis- belief in their faces. 'Wait, sirs. I tell you wait and you shall see. Makes the holes now, and by the time you are ready, there will 186 be time to make catch nets. You trust me, sirs. Here is the home of my fathers and I know.' They trusted him. They dug the twenty acre field laboriously, pitting its surface with little craters - and when it was done, they set about making net traps across the Town Brook. It happened as they had been told. They had not long bad their morning fare of porridge, biscuit and water, when some set off to examine the nets, children racing ahead of them. A sud- den shrilling from excited voices sent the men running and, coming to a standstill on the brook's rocky banks, they stared in amazement at the sight that greeted them. The water was in tumult. It had been transformed from a gentle stream, some twenty feet in width, whose waters usually meandered sweetly over the shining pebbles down to the sea, into a raging torrent - of fish. They poured up the stream 'against its current, their silver bodies leaping and surging against the furious spray of their passage. As the early daylight caught and held the glistening diamonds of a million 'iridescent rainbow scales, the water was solid with bodies. Edward Winslow let out a whoop and dashed to the nets where the catch was already so heavy that they were in danger of bursting. For two hours, the men toiled over the brook, lifting the nets with their struggling, leaping burdens, and tipping the fish out on to the grass'. The great pile of shimmering herring grew while they hastily reset the nets, and the never-ending torrent of fish pushed frantically up stream, aeons of instinct too strong for a sudden change in their movement pattern. The fish were still coining when they raised the traps, though the boiling water was beginning to settle to a steady flow once more. There would still be rich fishing in the pond later on, after the spawning. Meanwhile, everyone joined in the seed and fish planting. Men, women, and children squatted over the holes with bags of corn and fish, patiently tamping them in as Squanto had directed - seed, fish, soil, water, then the final covering. The sun 'strengthened during the morning and, for the first time since their arrival, the air was still, heavy. Every- one worked with such dogged concentration upon the soil that no one noticed that John Carver bad begun to take longer and longer respites. He suddenly keeled over without a word of warning and fell across the half filled hole at the end of the row he had been working on. They ran to his assistance. The startled shouts of those nearest brought the other field workers across at speed, to gather round the governor as he lay curled 187 0 up on the ground, his head in his hands. 'My head is bursting,' he muttered to Samuel Fuller who knelt by him and gently felt his hot forehead. The governor had had the winter sickness but, surprisingly for a man of his middle years, he had shaken it off fairly quickly and had seemed quite recovered. Now, his face was ghastly, eyes screwed up against the sun's glare. 'I can't see, Samuel. I can't see. Help me to my home, I pray you.' Willing hands raised him, anxious voices muted in their concern. He was bome back across the big field and in through the new stockade gate. His pain was already so great that he felt little sensation of movement, but simply the terrifying feeling that at any moment his skull would burst and deposit its contents upon his brethren. By the time he was laid in his bed at Catherine's side, he had mercifully lost consciousness. Catherine, white faced and scrawny as a scarecrow, rose shakily, put her own sickness on one side, and tearfully attended her husband. He never re- gained consciousness and within three days had sunk into a deep coma and, on the fourth day, he died. The whole village was thrown into a mood of black depres- sion. So many had died and all were sorely missed, but that their own governor should be taken now, when the sickness was fast easing and the present patients all recovering, seemed the worst tragedy to hit them since the winter death had begun. When, on the third day of his illness, it became all too clear that he was not going to recover, the Council sat to discuss an immediate successor, and William Bradford, the master printer and diarist, was chosen. Accepting the appointment was a difficult decision for him. He was a man of education and letters, one of the early refugees on the flight from their Scrooby farmlands. He had been a close friend and devoted supporter of Pastor Robinson, and of his neighbour William Brewster, since childhood and even now, was a man of only thirty-one. However, he was still weak and sickly from a bout of the winter sickness so severe that at one point it had been thought that he would shortly be reunited with his drowned wife, Dorothy. The improving weather had turned the course of his illness, however, and eventually he had risen from his bed and started to assume his place at the printing press, among his companions. All the same, he was still very weak and unable to tackle most of the more physical chores. When the Council elected him to the governorship, he 198 finally agreed on the condition that they gave him a deputy, at least until he felt fit enough to carry out all the tasks and responsibilities of the community's constitutional structures and differences. Isaac Allerton was unanimously elected. There was no hiding the de ' ath of the governor from their Indian neighbours, so his funeral was conducted with all the simple ceremony they could muster, as soon as a grave had been dug for him near the Common House. With Samoset and Squanto representing Massasoit, they carried him in the firs coffin made for any of them, a rough pine box hastily assembled by Francis Easton from split pine planks. The entire com- munity turned out to say their farewells, with the exception of young John Hook and Ellen Billington who were still unable to leave their beds. Catherine was carried in a chair, since it was obvious that she would be unable to stand and was, in any case, in such a state of weakness and sustained shock that she would have collapsed before they had gone more than a few paces. The coffin was borne by John Howland of the Carver house- bold, Miles Standish, Edward Winslow and Isaac Allerton. They walked slowly from the Carver house, though the burden bad little weight. Every man, woman and child had bowed ,heads and saddened thoughts. They had draped King James's standard over the bare casing, and the young drummer pre- ceded the procession up the hill. Behind the cortege, Elder Brewster walked - bead down, black skull cap covering his shaggy grey hair. The prayer book under his arm was one of their own publications, containing a selection of passages from the English Bible and the teachings of Pastor Robinson, so far away from them in Leyden. He walked up the hill like an old man, his soul heavy with sadness at the loss 'of this old and valued friend. They had been through so much together since their meeting as young men. Their hearts had been fired with the strength of their convictions in those days, when their bodies were full of vigour and energy, and their minds bright with the crusade to bring freedom of worship into the home of every man. The small knot of dissenters increased as they crystallised their beliefs and found others, including consecrated ministers like John Robinson, who thought as they did, and whose practised rhetoric could have convinced the birds in the trees. They had closed ranks and strengthened themselves. John Carver married Robinson's sister-in-law, Catherine White, and 189 it was not long before the English Church's pressures upon them set them in flight to the Low Countries beyond the Channel. Elder Brewster shook his head as he plodded up the hill, not noticing the rough path under his feet nor the slow rat-tat- tat of Edward Doty's drum. His mind had rolled away to those first times of their shared hardships which, because they were all so much younger, had not seemed such a heavy yoke as this last year had been. Yet, even then, they bad suffered the loss of their property which, together with their professions, had been their birthright for generations. They had been chased and harried, ridiculed and imprisoned, before finally finding some sort of frugal security in the poor existence which gave shape and meaning to their hounded lives. 'Is it worth it all, Lord? Are we running blind, thinking we are doing your will while we are really becoming the tool of our own destruction? We bow to your Infinite Goodness. . . we know that the hardships we suffer are accepted gladly in your name, for we know that there is reason behind all your actions but Lord, direct our faltering steps more carefully. We are halved in number and can surely not survive another winter with so few unless we are replenished from our brethren in Leyden. They reached the newly-turned earth on the side of the hill where the gaping cavity waited to receive another spent body. 'Was that Hobbamock's price for Richard's life?' Becky asked Chapanuk. 'The life of our governor for one whose only value is to me?' He smiled at her and shook his head. 'The death of your Satchem had nothing to do with my gods ... Maybe Kytan needed his soul, though, since he was a good man, and Kytan sbone upon him in the fields as be worked.' How confusing she found his reasoning. She bad hoped in her heart that this was a large enough forfeit for their people to pay but what, if this was not it, was in store for them yet? Maybe the punishment was hers alone. The child stirred languidly in her, pushing and stretching up under her rib cage so that her bones ached. She gently rubbed her chest and after a while the movements settled to their usual flickering pulse beat. 'Tell me about,your gods,' she said to Chapanuk. 'There 190 seems to be so many of them, they confuse me. We only have one.' 'We have many, for each living thing is a small god in our eyes, but I will tell you. Manibozho is the great cornerstone of all our beliefs. It was he who created our souls, for he is pure power rather than flesh and blood. He is made of dreams and instincts. He created those others who brought the physical world into being. I speak of Kytan, builder of the earth, who rises in the sun and sleeps with its sinking, to generate another day while Hobbamock walks the night. Kytan is all about us in the things we can see - while Manibozho is our very existence in the things we are and the things we do ... in the soul of an ant, of a tree, of a blade of grass. Kytan shelters the Wam- panoag. He is our personal god, our heavenly Satchem above all Satchems here on earth. At his side rides Hobbamock, Satchem of Darkness who wields the power of anger and revenge, who conjures with the very elements, who lives in the snake. He has as much curative power as he had destructive, and so we live in great reverence and fear of his changing moods, for his is a mercurial nature, Winona, not like the steady goodness of Lord Kytan, whom we love greatly, even above our forefathers. Hobbamock is third in line of greatness for, if Kytan sends down punishment - which is rare and always well deserved - then Hobbamock has not the strength to over- come it. Kytan, in his turn, cannot alter the all-powerful will of Manibozho, whose decisions are absolute and must be ac- cepted with bowed head.' She listened to the strong deep resonance of Chapanuk's voice as he put together the threads of his vibrant pictures; of birds with souls and mutual respect for each other and all mankind; of the dream that every man sought, from time to time, when the animal spirit who was his own familiar would be made known to him, and with whom he would always have special rapport thereafter. How beautiful and logical it all sounded, she thought. Like a shimmering tapestry of glowing colours embroidered across the cynical face of mankind. 'What about death? If Governor Carver were your own leader, what would be his fate after death?' 'Death is a separate state, naturally. It has great and fearful meaning for us, for if one dies who has earned the wrath of Kytan or of Hobbamock ' then he will not be able to travel to the south-west, where dwell the good souls. He will be obliged to wander the earth, bringing ill luck and dark portent where- 191 ever he lurks, and the very air and earth of his possession will be cursed - as this village of yours is cursed. The death of a child is an unnatural event, for Kytan created life so that it should follow its natural span. First then, it is put at the door of the parents to see whether one or both of them may have given offence to one of the gods. The father will cut off his hair and pierce his body with his knife, so that the blood flows freely and will rid him of his possible imperfections. In all cases of death ' Winona, the name of the one who has died must be erwed from the living memory, and must never be uttered again.' His voice seemed stronger and more vigorous every time they were in contact now. She knew that he no longer had any animosity towards her, or any feelings of jealousy at the grow- ing strength of her own power. In any case, she was never able to see that she had any special gift other than the conscious healing potential in her bands and the occasional flashes of something enormous which had taken life twice in the last months. She was still confused to find that she had the power to help some but not others. Will Bradford had certainly responded to her nursing, and so had Sam Fuller after only three days of her attention. Priscilla had been another, and both the little Tilley cousins, Humility Cooper and Henry Sampson - and they had lodged with Richard and her ever since. Why then had she not been able to reach poor Mary Allerton who bad died in February on Mayflower without ever setting foot upon Plymouth soil ... and the two Martins and Rose Standish . . . and many others? Time and age would bring her wisdom and understanding of all these things but now, with her nineteenth birthday upon her, they did little to ease her confusion. Chapanuk, on the other hand, was undergoing a slow meta- morphosis. She remembered her first clear image of him - of his dignity and regal bearing, and of his advancing age. Now however, the Cbapanuk who dwelt within her was daily be- coming rejuvenated, vigorous - the thinning texture of his pres- ence enriched in new depths. His image was pure projected awareness of this new liveliness, and she constantly felt the increasingly intense possessiveness in those black eyes of his that no longer hid behind their milky blindness. She said nothing but became watchful, and he seemed to accept that she knew what was happening to him. Somewhere in the inner reaches of his soid, there was a lingering sadness that 192 bad no place in the rest of his projection. She could not place its source then and, being so remote, it hardly worried her. It was enough to know that she and the community would not be chased from this place, and that she could always shelter in the fortress of Chapanuk's wisdom and protection. She felt happy, even as she walked, black clothed, up the hill with Richard to make their farewells to their old governor.. The first meeting of the Council under William Bradford met some five days after John Carver's funeral. They were quickly made aware that the situation had already undergone a subtle change. The fact was that Carver had been a devout and elderly scholar, slow to accept change or clarification. His successor was twenty years younger, with a sparkling mind and the personality to carry through the points he put across to his Council. Elder Brewster studied the faces of the five men seated round the heavy pine table. It was not that he dis- approved of youth. On the contrary, he realised all too clearly that they would only be able to survive through the ranks of the young. All the same, except for William and Isaac' his deputy, who were still in their thirties, he was now the only man present who had started out on their pilgrimage from Scrooby nearly thirteen years before. Winslow and Standish were good men, and Stephen Hopkins, though not one of them, was as kindly and stable a man as they could wish to have among them. The presence of Christopher Jones had been a great comfort earlier,'excellent level-headed man that he was. How good it would have been to have bad the benefit of his wisdom and experience here with them now. He studied the others, seeing their mouths moving, without taking in what they were saying. Will would surely be the right man to steer his flock through the inevitable troubles which must still be ahead of them. Head screwed on well. He'd seen to that since the distant days when Will, orphaned at an early age, had attached himself to the Brewster household. Isaac was also a good choice as deputy. He had an excellent vision of what their community should aim towards in the future and, with his natural gifts for turning ideas into practical gain, his advice at Will's elbow should be of inestimable value. Miles Standish now, their little red fighting cock. He studied Miles for some time, eyes lost in the shadow of his bushy eyebrows. Miles was undoubtedly a small rock of a man. 13 193 t e 0 t r h x s n n f e t f r t e s W, s Certainly, he had his drawbacks, for he was often over enthu siastic and tended to dash headlong into a situation withou first pausing to consider the implications. Put this together with a poor head for learning and a ferocious temper which h frequently had difficulty in controlling, and you had a man wh was impulsive, impatient and unforgiving. Already, he was a no pains to hide his indifference and even contempt for thei Indian neighbours, a fact which their new friends were muc too sensitive not to be well aware of. Miles had another prob lem which was just beginning to show itself. He was thirty-si years old, and Rose had been dead for three months. He wa obviously lonely and knotted up inside, and had lately bee paying increasing attention to Priscilla Mullins. As a result a feeling of animosity was beginning to show itself betwee him and John Alden. They would need watching carefully, those two. Priscilla was a fine sensible girl for all her lack o years, and she would make her own choice when the pain of her family's passing had lessened in her. His eyes moved on to where Edward Winslow sat besid Stephen. What a tower of strength the boy had been to them all since the day he had arrived in Leyden to assist Will with the printing work. He was the youngest of the Leyden group by some years but still, even at twenty-five, his depth of though and reason combined with an eternal optimism and the very pleasing appearance of his bright-eyed, attractive countenance was a constant source of joy to them all. He had a rare gift o patience and tact that had not gone unnoticed by John Carve when he had suggested that it should be Edward who firs approached Massasoit. There were many who bad felt that an older man should have gone - but who would have done any better than young Winslow? Massasoit, himself a good and wise ruler by all accounts, bad recognised in Edward's respect- ful but smiling approach, that this young man represented th outgoing attitude of all the white men - and had not been slow in accepting him completely. Edward had recently lost hi young wife, Elizabeth, but after the first shock and sadness, had quickly immersed himself in the village's affairs, and now he and his younger brother, Gilbert, were making themselve useful to Widow White, who lived with the two babies next door to them, At the far end of the table, Stephen Hopkins sat bunched over his folded arms, listening intently to the new governor What blessed benevolence had touched his and the Billington family as well as Brewster's own, he would never know, but they were the only ones who had not lost at least one member of their household since their landing in New England. In Hopkins, he saw another man of strength. At first, they had feared that he might prove to be a trouble maker, as he had appeared to be a considerable 'know-all' and was not shy to voice his knowledge. However, he must have become aware that endless talk of his travels was having the reverse effect to his intentions, for he had become much quieter since their arrival on the Cape, and nowadays he only offered advice when he was asked for it. Thus, it had been some time before it was discovered that he did, in fact, have a considerable command of the Indian language, and they were now grateful to him beyond measure, not only for his willing instruction to those who wished to learn from him but also, through tutoring several of their Indian friends, he was steadily forging closer ties of understanding between the two peoples. It was natural that he should be most concerned for his Virginia property, so it had been agreed wholeheartedly among them that, should a ship put in that was southbound, he should travel down to Jamestown to see his business there and, at the same time, obtain all the supplies and news that be could for the Plymouth colony. A word filtered through his train of thought and be jerked back to the Council's business and realiscd with a shock that they were discussing the very subject that had, for some time, lain at the back of his own mind. 'I feel sure that the elder, here,' Bradford was saying to Stephen, 'will put you in touch with the full facts regarding our attitude towards the duties of the Church versus the State on the subjects of births, marriages and death.' Stephen quickly put up a conciliatory hand. 'I wasn't pro- testing, Governor. I was simply asking for clarification on this subject since, as you are aware, Miles and I are the only ones here who have not necessarily accepted this concept of the law since it was taken through Parliament in the Netherlands in 1590. 1 am not saying that I don't accept it, but you must forgive me if I find it all both strange and even displeasing, since I have been brought up to accept that marriage is a sacrament and should be conducted, if not in a church, then at least by a churchman. In this community, Elder Brewster is our churchman, and I would not like to see any marriage solemnised that was not of his making! Brewster smiled down the table and leaned forward. 'It is naturally difficult for you, Stephen - and we understand that it will be so for all those of our community who have lived their lives within the dictates of the English Church. For Miles, it's not much of a problem though, as he has been in and out of our company for many years now and, having spent more of his years in the Low Countries than in his native Lancashire, he is well acquainted with our ways.' Miles nodded, pulling impatiently at the red beard which he had started to grow in recent weeks. 'We accepted the State decision on this subject some four years ago, after giving it much examination and debate. It was decided by our good Pastor Robinson and by us all after, that this law reflected very well our own attitude with regard to the provinces of Church and State. We feel, you see, that marriage and death, together with birth, are subjects to be dealt with by the magistrate rather than the pastor, since the Church's concern should be for the soul of the individual, rather than for his body and the changing condition of his estate. Bearing this in mind, it is our practice for the magistrate to do the actual registering of these three states - and for the community as a whole to offer their prayers for the person or persons in- volved.' Stephen pulled at his lower lip as he thought this out. The others waited quietly, sitting back in their seats and watching him. Finally, he looked up, his eyes twinkling. 'I'll not waste your good time now with a host of questions and arguments. Rather, let me ask for deeper instruction from Elder Brewster, since there is little else among your dictates which I would question.' Approval swept down the table as they all relaxed and murmured their agreement and Bradford, scanning the notes in front of him, carried on with the rest of the question under discussion. 'In that case, let us proceed with the subject I wanted to bring before you.' He picked at the curling edge of the paper on the table, and looked earnestly along the table, searching each face as he spoke. 'This winter has been a terrible experience when the Lord, in his wisdom has seen fit to deci- mate our little company and take many of our loved ones from us. Now that the spring is on the land, the sickness seems to be lifting and the remaining patients recovering. However, the purge has left some dreadful scars behind it. I ask you to consider the village with its twelve homesteads and two more 196 in the making. How many children are living with their parents? How many women have husbands to care for them and their young? How many men are single now, having lost their wife or children or both?' He looked round at the attentive audience. Miles sat forward, tense as a wire. Isaac's face was grim, his mouth a thin line of pain. Of the six men present, only Elder Brewster and Hopkins had wives now, and Isaac was trying to manage his three small children and a dying servant. 'This subject may be painful to most of you - as you must know that it is to me - but, if this community is to survive, then it must do so through the strong links of each family being a tough, self-supporting unit . . . and the steady pro- creation of more children to ensure that it has a future at all.' There was not a movement in the room. Every man waited for the governor to finish what he had started to say. 'With this in mind, I say to you all - close up ... find out who among our womenfolk will agree to see our predicament in this light of survival, and take single men as husbands. There Will be pain and suffering in the hearts of many, for we married the first time for love of the one who has gone now. Respect, however, is a condition that women are familiar with, and upon which it is always possible to build an honourable mar- riage. Respect and the common need ... and that, my brothers, is what we face at this moment. The common need.' He sat back, his face lined with the depth of his own sadness. Dorothy had been a nervous, tetchy girl, but she had loved him and had been a good wife, and be missed the familiarity of her presence more than he could say. He could see the agreement in Brewster's eyes, and in Stephen's. They were, after all, only having to consider the aesthetics of the subject. The other three widowers were, however, reacting in different ways. Edward looked thoughtful, his face oddly blank for one usually so volatile. Miles had gone the colour of a turkey cock, and seemed to be furiously debating with himself. Isaac, beside him, had unashamed tears in his eyes. There bad been a great closeness between Mary and himself and be had had to watch her slowly fading away for months before her actual death. After a few moments, Brewster answered for them all, his deep quiet voice soothing their taut silence. 'The wisdom of your words must be apparent to us all, Governor, even if it rubs salt into the wounds of our losses. With this in mind, I sball bring it up at prayers and lay it before the community in 197 the simplest of forms, so that we may see how everyone feels about it. There are, after all, some five houses without a wife and mother to care for them, and there are two houses that have a gathering of women and children and no head of house- hold to give them support and protection. This is certainly an unnatural situation, especially for our settlement, and it pro- vides an imbalance to the smooth running of the community. The summer months must be encouraged to right that balance.,' Isaac's young servant, John Hook, died the next day, so Isaac was not at the evening prayer meeting when the elder broached the subject. He knew the wisdom and practical necessity be- hind Will's thinking. He respected him all the more for bringing it up when it was clear that he still mourned his own wife, Somehow, though, it was still unthinkable just yet to consider taking one of the women into his house and his bed, especially as Susanna White, Sam Fuller's sister, and Priscilla were the only two adults available other than Desir6 - and if John Howland was having no success in his cautious advances there, then certainly no one would. The other females were green girls yet. Elizabeth Tilley and Mary Chilton were sixteen and fifteen, and young Constanta Hopkins, although fast becoming a striking looking girl, was still fourteen. Besides the governor and himself, there was Miles, the two Winslow boys, Francis Cooke and Francis Eaton, John Alden, Samuel Fuller, John Howland and certainly another three of the seven remaining men, since four had left wives back in England. He went across the street and knocked at the Gardenars' door to pick up his three children. Only a week after Elder Brewster's sermon, a furious row broke out between Miles Standish and John Alden which ended in a sparring match from which Miles suffered considerably. It had been observed that Miles's interest in Priscilla had been growing of late, and at first she had obviously been flattered and not displeased. Since the young giant, John Alden, had been giving her steady attention since their day's at sea, there was a certain amount of amused speculation as to who would be the lucky man, though the women felt that Alden had little real competition. Priscilla nursed a deep private feeling for him, which only showed itself in small ways, since she was a stubborn girl and was not about to be taken for granted. These days, she saw little of the young cooper except at week-ends, 198 as his undiminished strength and energy bound him to the heaviest work on the plantation, and he was in the habit of retiring to his lodgings with the Winslows and going to bed early. This habit had lately begun to peeve her, and when the fiamboyant little captain started to call and offer his help in the Mullins's house, she had been touched by his gruff kindness - and also filled with a mischievous urge to shake John into a keener awareness of her position. She had hardly anticipated the velocity of the reaction. It began when Miles came to the open door and stood hover- ing while she gently put little Sam Fuller down from her knee. The child was almost walking now, and he tottered at her side as she turned towards Miles, clinging to her black skirts so that she bad to move slowly, lest he lose his precarious balance. 'Ccme in, Captain Standish,' she called out. 'Excuse my slow- ness. As you see, I have a sheet anchor out.' Miles watched the two as they moved slowly towards him, the tiny, chuckling boy wobbling on chubby legs and peering out at him from the thick folds of Priscilla's skirts. And Priscilla. Tall and straightbacked as a young queen, her skin full of the trans- lucence of returning health, and cheeks pink from working in the sun. Her dark hair was neatly coiled on either side of her bead under the cambric cap, but a stray curl or two had escaped and lay in springy tendrils at the nape of her long neck. 'He's doing better every day now, isn't he?' he said, squatting down in the doorway and holding out his hands to the child. Samuel clung hard to Priscilla's skirts while he steadied himself. He fixed solemn blue eyes upon the friendly figure in the door- way, and released his grip on the skirt. There was a breathless, swaying moment, and then he suddenly took three headlong steps into the waiting haven of strong arms and was swung up into the air, chortling happily. Priscilla clapped her hands. 'Well done, Sam. Well done. Those were his very first steps on his own, you know.' She came forward and put her arms round Sam, who sat cuddled against Miles's broad chest. He caught a tantalising whiff of lavender and warm woman as she bent to kiss the child's blond head. He stood up and walked into the kitchen where he put the small boy down in Alice Mullin's rocking chair, where he could swing himself to and fro. The room was empty, as Mary and Elizabeth were helping in other houses at this comparatively early hour. Priscilla noted the earliness of the visit. She also saw the leather bag swinging from his belt. 'It's unusual to see you in 199 the village at this time,' she said, turning to stir the heavy iron cooking pot which hung from its great hook in the fireplace. She was becoming a good cook and, with Becky's help and her mother's recipe book, contrived to infuse all sorts of herbal flavours into the flesh and vegetables on the hearth. A savoury smell lightly brushed the air in the room, wafting through the stronger scent of burning juniper. He reached for the heavy bag at his belt and unhooked it. Digging into its capacious depths, he hauled out a young brown goose and laid it on the kitchen table. She was delighted with such a succulent treat and thanked him warmly. 'We haven't had goose since just after we arrived here,' she said, running her fingers over the plump body, and noting the full flesh and thick feathers. 'You must come and eat it with us and share such a feast,' she said. 'It's a great pleasure to me to bring you anything that pleases you,' he said formally, his voice rough as gravel. Fluency was not his best subjecti and his words seemed always tinged with a pomposity he didn't intend. 'It's a worry to see you three young women having to fend for yourselves. I would like you to feel that you could lean more often upon my help! His voice was stiff, cold with awkwardness, but the small blue eyes were suddenly vulnerable, open - showing what he was trying to say, and begging her not to turn him away. He saw her eyes slide from him to a point beyond his head, and a shadow fell across the room, shutting out the mellow sunshine, so that the fire shadows leapt into the comers and shrouded her in twilight. 'Evening, Priscilla. Thought I'd drop by and see if you needed more firewood yet. I see that last pile I cut you is getting low.' Miles turned quickly, the moment irretrievably lost. Rage bubbled into his chest as he glowered at John Alden, leaning comfortably against the door jamb, grinning at him. 'He knows,' he thought furiously. 'The wretch must have followed me and listened! Accustomed to his own volatile tempers, he strove to hold himself in. 'Evening, Alden,' he said stiffly. 'Nearly finished the bottom gate, I see. Making a good job of it too.' John inclined his bead in acknowledgement and then noticed the goose lying on the table. His eyebrows shot up into the thatch of thick brown hair. 'My, that's a tidy young bird,' he said admiringly, coming in and putting a great hand on it. He 200 stood at Miles's side, towering over him, his body relaxed and very much at home. 'The wretched man,' Priscilla thought, laughter bubbling in her as she looked at the two of them. 'What neither seems to realise is that they both make each other look ridiculous, John as well as the captain.' She greeted John quietly with no great show of pleasure, but he caught the twitch at the comer of her mouth and looked down at the red-faced little soldier, fidgeting from one foot to the other in his impatience. 'Now, it just happens that I've brought you something that'll. be good to cook with that fine gander,' he said, delving into the deep pockets of his old torn jacket. He fished around, bringing out first his measuring line, then a rabbies foot, a small bag of twine - a pouch of tobacco. He heaped them on the table, and finally gave a grunt of satisfaction as he produced a thick fistful of costmary and spread the young green shoots out on the table. 'There,' he said, smiling across at Priscilla. 'Bible leaf f you. I found quite a large patch of it this morning and thought iou might find it useful when you start brewing - but a goose now, that's even better. T'will make a royal stuffing in such a fine bird.' And without thinking, he gave Miles a hearty, friendly thump on the back which nearly rocked the little man off his feet. 'I'll thank you not to do that, Alden,' Miles said icily. 'In fact, Mistress Priscilla and I were in conversation of a private nature, and I'd be glad if you'd come back another time! He glowered up at John, in no way intimidated by the younger man's size. 'Well, I do apologise,' John said slowly. He looked from Miles to Priscilla and back. He didn't move, but Priscilla, long accustomed to storing away every detail of him, detected a warning hardening in the lazy, friendly voice. 'We were discussing the feast we shall have with Captain Standish's excellent goose,' she said hastily. 'Your welcome addition to the pot,makes you a guest at the table too, John.' Too late she realised that she had made a bad mistake. She saw John smile broadly, and he took little Samuel up from the rocking chair and settled himself into its wide seat, balancing Sam on his broad knees. The child chuckled and crooned happily at him. Miles's face turned an even deeper red. 'I'm sure that it's large enough to invite half the village in.' He seemed to be baving difficulty with his breathing. 'Regrettably, I don't 201 t greatly care for the flavour. I find it too greasy! His eyes were shafts of cold blue steel as he put his face close to John's in the deepening dusk. 'Now, I suggest you go, Alden. I have some- thing to discuss with Mistress Priscilla which does not require your presence.' John sat comfortably in the rocking chair, studying the angry face hovering at his own level. He was not easy to bring to anger, but the barely veiled fury in Miles's eyes began to rankle him. 'Remove your countenance from before mine, if you please, sir,' he said slowly. 'I find your tone offensive, and also the odour on your breath.' Miles recoiled as though John had struck him. He bounced backwards on his heels and could hardly keep his hands still. 'You are impertinent, sir,'he bellowed. 'Leave this house before you cause me to do something I certainly won't regret! His roar startled Sam who stared at the little red man with wide, frightened eyes. He opened his mouth and began to wail lustily. 'Now you've started something,' John said mildly as Priscilla swooped between thein and scooped the little boy up into her arms. She threw the two men a withering look over her shoulder as she disappeared into the inner room, slamming the door behind her. The minute she had gone, Miles flew into the attack. 'Get out of here. Go on, you great thundering oaf. Why do you have to come in here, destroying the peace and making a nuisance of yourself? Can't you see you're not wanted? Can't you see she doesn't need you? Get out of that chair before I kick you out, sir.' Without waiting any longer he took a hefty swing and landed a monumental punch which connected squarely with the soft end of John Alden's narrow nose. The pain brought him to his feet with a roar. He picked Miles up in his two great hands, pinning his arms to his sides, and shook him with all his strength, while the blood poured from his nose and spattered the quickly disorientated Miles about the face and jacket. The roar brought Priscilla flying from the inner room. 'Stop that. Stop it at once! She grabbed John by the sleeve of his old jacket, tearing it in her haste and anger. The two men seemed to be locked away in a private world of their own for a few moments - unable to see or hear her. Then John stopped his furious shaking and released Miles, who collapsed on the floor at Priscilla stood over him as he sat, shaking his head from side 202 to side, trying to rid himself of the dizziness the shaking had provoked. 'How dare you two brawl in my house? Leave it this minute, do you hear? You've frightened the daylight out of that poor child. Now you've broken my mother's chair too,' she added as she suddenly saw the rocking chair lying on its side with one of the rockers split in two. 'Go on. Leave the house before I get my besom to the two of you.' They both became aware of her standing by them, bands on hips, anger flashing from the fine-, dark eyes. Miles came slowly to his feet, muttering his apologies. 'It's no good apologising,' Priscilla said tartly. 'I'll tell you one thing, though. The two of you can stay away from this house in the future, because I can manage very well here without either of you. Go on now - go.' They went - Miles storming off up the darkening road to the Common House where he still lodged. John turned the other way and plodded down the hill to the Winslow house. He kept his torn sleeve to his nose, but the blood continued to pump out and poured over his hand. Ten minutes later, little Henry Sampson came knocking on the Mullins' door. 'Mistress Gardenar says to tell you that John Alden's gotta bone broken in his nose,' he said breathlessly to Priscilla. 'She says can you spare any rags or stale biscuit or bread for an oil poultice?' CHAPTERFOUR April gave way to a sparkling May. It had been a good month with light breezes and short showers during the day, leaving the downpours for the night hours. May blossomed with the de ciduous trees along the Town Brook, and the New World took on a fresh green mantle, jewelled with its first blossoms. During the first week in May, Edward Winslow asked Susanna White to marry him. It took the community by nearly as much sur prise as it had taken Susanna herself, but after Elder Brewster's sermon on the subject, all things considered, it did seem to be 203 a sensible move. The two were next-doo'r neighbours, and Edward and Gilbert had long been assisting her about the house. Susanna, after the first shock of his proposal, accepted him. She was finding life both lonely and difficult, with the new baby Peregrine as well as little Resolved to care for on her own, and had quickly come to rely on the two young brothers in the next house. She was older than Edward, but only by two years, and was still an attractive girl, shy and devout but with an unexpected flash of bright humour which matched Edward's own. She already had the greatest admiration and gratitude for him. He was a much more worldly person than William had been, and she saw in his natural charm and friendly personality all those attributes she would dearly love to have possessed. They married on May 12th. The whole village donned their best clothes and turned the day into their first community celebration since their arrival. Although most people were in mourning, Elder Brewster suggested that the day be brightened for the young couple by the laying aside of their black for this one occasion. The loved ones were gone, be said, and would not deem it a lack of respect to do such a thing in salute to their first knot-tying. The marriage ceremony was conducted in the Common House where all the prayer meetings and document signings were carried out. For two days before the event, the children had been combing the woods for blossom and greenery. The women decorated the inside of the Common House with sweet smelling swathes of maple, chestnut, and fem tied with gay ribbons. They even decorated the walls with sprays of plum blossom and juniper. A great deal of hurried cooking was done and each household produced some special delicacy for the wedding supper. The service, being a civil one, was performed by Governor Bradford. After it was over, the couple asked for Elder Brewster's blessing upon their union, in which the whole community joined - and when he had finished, they sat down to celebrate and to toast the young couple. It was a noisy evening and a happy one. The children sang their Flemish and English songs, the musicians among them played so that the newly weds could dance and be joined by the other young people, the smaller children played leap frog and Little Sally Water amid shrieks of laughter and pink faced giggles. For a few hours, the black cloud of the previous months and the cost to them all was forgotten. Samuel Fuller made a 204 speech on behalf of his sister, Susanna, and John Billington - by then mellowed by the colourful. occasion and quantity of gin, followed him by speaking for Edward, before Gilbert could rise to answer for his brother. Becky sat quietly beside Richard, enjoying every moment of the scene and laughing at some of the children's wild antics. She was very large with child now and found she could do little these days but care for her home and the two children who lodged with them. The rest of the community regarded her with special warmth and hope, since she was, at this time, the only woman with child and carried the hopes of continuity for them all. She shifted often as she sat, these days. The child seemed restless within her and moved constantly, turning and stretch- ing as though it fought to be free of her. There were periods of ti le lethargy now, when she had begun to feel weak and errib unwell, her insides bruised. Fits of dizziness had begun to overwhelm her when she least expected them. 'How is it that you make so much of this condition?' Chapa- nuk asked when he observed her lying down one afternoon with a particularly bad spell of nausea. 'Can't you see how weak we dl are,' she answered, exas- perated ... Why must he intrude now? 'Our women make nothing of childbirth,' he said dis- paragingly. 'They work as though they carry no extra load, their children are quickly born, and by the third dawn, they are back in the fields with their papoose on their backs. Yet I have seen two births of your women and watch you at your son's growing. The woman in the ship took many hours to produce a small weed of a son. The second woman caste hers from her too early so that it died - and then died herself. Now you, Winona, with all your powers and wisdom, even you are slowing down and cossetting yourself as your time approaches. Your health has been better than many of the others. Food has been scarce, I agree, but no more so than our people have had during a hard winter. I do not like to see you so ... I expect more of you, more fire and determination. It is only a child you have there, not a sickness! 'Oh go away, please! Becky turned over on the bed and buried her face in the pillows, trying to block out his image. It persisted behind her eyelids, the proud mocking face with its high cheekbones and soaring nose. The child began its lethargic assault again at the bruised base of her lower ribs. She groaned into the pillows and clenched her fist against the movements. 205 The Carver house was a sorry place. With the quiet strength of the governor gone, Catherine completely gave in to her chronic sickness and daily became more indifferent to her surroundings. After the funeral, she immediately took to her bed again and wept whenever there wereenquiries after her health, or even when Desir6 helped her with her toilet. If John Howland, who lived with them, or Mary Brewster sought to cheer her up, she turned angrily upon them and lashed herself into a frenzy of hysterical misery. She refused to cat - and most of all, she refused any medication. Desir6, always shy and withdrawn at the best of times, began to feel equally tearful as all her timid but kindly efforts were sharply rejected. Desir6 herself was desperately unhappy. She had survived the winter sickness after a fairly mild dose, but was still frail as a whisp of smoke from the aftermath. John, one of the lucky few to escape illness completely, did his best to help her wherever he could. He was not only extremely sorry for the girl, but felt attracted to her delicate, china doll looks. To him, she possessed such fragile sensitivity, such a high wall of reserve that, living in the house with Catherine and their ser- vant, Will Latham, he had become accustomed to her painful unobtrusiveness, and was no longer irritated by the frightened way she looked at him when he spoke to her. He began, with- out realising it, to feel protective about her and, as he listened to Elder Brewster begging them all to consider their futures, their very existence, he considered how he could ever broach such a subject to her. He made one attempt. 'Will you come with me down the hill and keep me company while I fish for tomorrow's food?' he asked her one evening. Evening fishing had become a favourite pastime. The young men sat in the twilight with a rush lamp beside them and caught the eels and fish as they homed in, attracted to the flickering glow. Desir6 was grinding com in the Carver's heavy brass mortar. Her eyes were lowered over the table and she ducked her head and shook it. 'No thank you. I have too much to do here.' 'Please come, Desir6,' he said quietly, careful not to move closer to her or raise his voice. It was like trying to coax a wild fawn to eat from the hand, he thought. 'You should get out of the house more, you know. Latham will see to Mistress Carver, for a little while. You need to get more fresh air, and let the fine weather bring the colour back to your face.' She Bashed a quick look at him, then dropped her eyes once 206 more to her slow, patient action with the pestle, grinding and rubbing the grain to a fine flour. 'I can't. Please don't ask me . thank you ... but I can't.' 'Desir6, I know what you went through - on the ship, and how unwell you have been ever since. I won't be a worry to you I promise. Nor would I let anyone else worry you. You wouldn't even need to talk unless you felt like it. It's just nice to have company down there while you wait for the fish to bite - and I'd be glad of another pair of hands to hold the rush light over the water! The honey-gold bead, bent low over the pestle and mortar, shook violently from side to side. 'No ... I'm sorry. I can't. I just don't want to.' There was a rising note of panic in her voice, and be abandoned the effort to persuade her further. It was strange. He had never even heard her call him by his name, though they had been part of the same household for nearly a year now, when you counted those weeks in Leyden before coming to London with Mr Carver. Poor little soul with her passionate devotion to Elder Brewster and all that he stood for. Maybe he was the only man who would ever feel the warmth of Desir6's attention, for it was daily more clear that the girl idolised the old man. Brooding on his lack of success and wondering what course to adopt next, he took his fishing tackle and, calling to Will to bring the stave and lamp, plodded off down the hill to the Town Brook. There had been stem words between the governor and Miles Standish, so the stocky little soldier avoided both Priscilla and John Alden in the next weeks. John had long since regained his natural good humour and seemed to bear no ill feeling. Rather, he wore his broken nose proudly, like an honourable war scar. When Priscilla heard that John was really damaged, she had hurried down to the Winslow house with strips of an old petticoat. Becky had been there, gently bathing John's swollen face in the distilled juices of foxglove and golden rod. Priscilla had stood over thern, muttering and tutting in her exasperation and concern as he patiently suffered himself to be poulticed and bandaged. His eyes went up to Priscilla and twinkled at her, and a great hand covered hers and held it close. The bandages were removed after two days, when the herbal poultice had had time to stem the internal bleeding, and the 207 bruises began to fade. As soon as Becky decided that it was safe to remove them, he was away like a hare, up to the.Mullins' house. For four evenings they walked beside the sea close together, until their figures merged with the deepening twilight. On the fifth evening, they returned after only half an hour of their promenade and walked up the wide village street, hand in hand. They went straight to the Brewster house where Governor Bradford still lodged while his house was in the making. They asked to see the governor and smilingly asked for it to be put on record that they wished to marry. The community spirits soared. Their Indian neighbours were now daily visitors, and it was no longer a strange sight to see one or more walking among them, or sitting in the open door of one of the houses. From the Indians, they learned new methods of husbanding the soil, fishing, and preparing meat and fish for drying. In turn, they were quick to offer their own konweldge, and Squanto and Hobbamock, Tokamahamon, and the other regular visitors were soon the proud possessors of wide brimmed hats, jackets and boots, and had even begun the sociable pastime of learning to fence. The young crops began to cast a green haze over the fields, fine tender shoots, fed by light showers and strengthened by mellow sunshine. In the cottage gardens, vegetables, herbs, and even flowers shot out of the earth in profusion. Squanto appeared with strawberry runners, and these were accepted with delight, since everyone had felt the lack of sugar in the stark simplicity of their diet for nearly a year now. He also showed them how to domesticate and trim the vines which grew in such abundance around them. Some of the men had brought vines home from their hunting trips and were training them up on to their houses to provide shade round the open doorways during the summer months. It would take some time yet for these vines to recover from their transplanting, although they re-rooted fast and quickly put out snaky tendrils and succulent young leaves, as they began their upward climb. The wild plants though would give quantities of fruit, and from them the women would brew the fine heady wines of the Flemish and English countrysides. Hobbamock suddenly decided to attach himself to the Gardenars. He told them in his odd sign language that he bad a wife and five children back in Sowams, the Wampanoag capital, which was some forty miles south-west of them. This was where Samoset had now gone, for he was soon to complete 208 his year of trapping and trading, and must then return to his own people on Monheggan Island. Becky had had a shock when Hobbamock, who spoke not a word of English, pointed to his broad brown chest and said, 'Hobbamock.' His eyes had snapped in surprise as Becky's hand flew to her mouth and she took a swift step back from him. Richard glanced across at her, but turned his attention back to the Indian, think- ing that Becky might, feel nervous of the fiercely handsome warrior. Hobbam:ock was a tall man, lean and fit with the high cheekbones and thin straight mouth of his people, and the high bridged nose that many of them also had. He was in his early thirties, straight-backed and proud of bearing, his skin and jet black hair gleaming with fresh bear grease. Like his com- panions, he wore a simple breech cloth of fringed leather at this time of the year, and his hair was almost long enough to reach his waist' He wore it cut short in bangs in the front and tied at the nape of his neck into a shining knot into which he had struck the tail feathers of a pheasant. His face, unlike that of Toka- mahamon who was tattooed from head to foot, was smooth and hairless, and he wore bracelets of small coloured shells at his wrists and ankles which jingled cheerfully as he moved. Richard smiled broadly at him, pointing to his own chest. 'Richard,' he said, and turned to Becky who still stood behind him, staring at Hobbamock. Richard drew her forward and put an arm around her shoulder. 'Becky,' he said to the Indian. The fine black eyes, so like Chapanuk's until you looked closer and saw the difference in their very lustre, swept over her - taking in her delicate pallor and the soft rose of returning health at her cheeks. His eyes sparkled as they took in the fruit- fulness in her body and the beauty of her chestnut hair, a colour he had never seen before, and which she wore this day without cover, as her cap was in shreds. The hair continued to rivet his attention. He put out a hand to touch it. 'Wunne,' he said, deep down in his throat. Becky stepped back from the hand and pushed the hair away from her face. 'It's all right,' Richard said, 'Stephen tells me that they have a great respect and admiration for hair for some reason, and this Hobbamock obviously never saw hair the colour.of yours before. I'm sure be means you no barm.' Hobbamock, hearing his name spoken, suddenly smiled and destroyed his fine features as he bared toothless gums, but for three front fangs., 14 Becky laughed and repressed a little shiver. 'He hasn't kept his teeth long, has he? He looks like my old granfer with those gaping gums. What a pity to spoil such a fine exterior. I was thinking just now that I wished I had Biddy's talent with a paint brush, so that I could put him on paper and send his like- ness back to her when the first ship calls in.' Hobbamock pointed to his chest again, and then to the healthy looking patch of peas, carrots, potatoes and turnips which were growing in neat rows beside the cottage. He was obviously curious about these strange looking plants, and Richard beckoned happily, proud of the success of his planting. They left her, and she turned thoughtfully into the kitchen, letting the fear of Hobbamock flow through her. 'Chapanuk.' She searched for him, but he was nowhere near. 'Chapanuk - was that Hobbamock?' She sent the urgent ques- tion out from her but there was no answer - no sign of his presence anywhere, even dimly. She sat down on the long bench that Richard was finshing in the evenings, and tried to concen- trate her thought waves as Chapanuk had been schooling her. She gathered them together after a scattered searching had pioduced no inkling of him, channelling them into one long burst of power from her with all her might. 'Chapanuk ... where are you?' For a moment, she thought there was a tremor of response from very far away - but nothing further came to her. She sat on the bench, staring into space, feeling with sudden warning the cold cbasm. of an infinite void, Chapanuk sat cross-legged on his couch in the gloom of the . wigwam. Namas was now certain that there was something very wrong with the old man, and was full of hopelessness after the past days' failure to communicate even once with him. He sat in what appeared to be a deep trance, eating nothing, drinking nothing. He had not stirred to relieve himself, nor had he shifted his position by a fraction. The boy sat quietly in the open doorway, watching the still figure in the shadows. At dawn and at dusk, Aspinet made visits to ask after him. There was an air of quiet waiting in the village. Was their great Powwaw going to die? Surely, in his wisdom, he would have given them warning, would- have made his wishes known. Those who came to seek his advice from other tribes went away with their 210 troubles unsolved. The old man remained on his couch, rock- like - erect as a proud cedar tree. He was far away, trying to strain even further, for he greatly feared the strength of Becky's worried sabre-thrusting power, especially as she was quite unaware still of just how strong and far reaching it was. He smote himself within, and strove to edge himself out into the far void - for Hobbamock was even now taking his price for the life of her man. The boy rose to his feet as the sun dipped behind the trees, glowing like a fireball caught in the branches. Chapanuk was a stone image, but a fine sweat filmed the rutted sweep on his high forehead. Becky's labour began that sundown. Hobbamock bad stayed with them while he and Richard shared a pipe and smoked tobacco from his waist pouch. He had shaken his head at her offer of food but watched with interest and approval as she gathered her little family round the table and set their evening meal before them. Humility and Henry were, by this time, very much at home in the Gardenar house, and Richard had assumed with ease the role of kind but firm foster father. It was cus- tomary for them to say little to each other during the meal, and they ate quickly, savouring the baked fish and bread and cheese, and left nothing on their plates but fishbones for scattering on the garden. Hobbamock stayed for an hour or two after the meal, apparently quite happy in their company, though com- munications were confined to gestures and smiles. At length, he rose, stuck his tongue out, licked his hand, and was gone into the night. 'He seemed friendly enough, didn't he?' Richard said when they were on their own. Becky had been very quiet all evening, and he supposed that she had been offended at the Indian's familiarity with her hair. She made no reply and he looked at her more closely. There were only two rush lights in the kitchen, and the cooking hearth had died down to a dull glow. She was sitting on the long bench. At the other end, the two children played Fox and Geese on the board the Tilleys bad left. Becky was, at that moment, sitting bolt upright, hands tightly clasped in her lap, eyes wide open, biting her lower lip. 'What's the matter?' he asked in alarm, seeing the tension in For a moment she made no reply but finally let her breath out 211 in a deep sigh. She shook her head with a tight little smile. 'It's all right.' Her voice was breathless, as though she had been running. 'I've suddenly realised why I've been getting such a backache all day. I think the baby is coming.' He leapt up and came to her quickly. She looked up at him with a calm little smile, her face suddenly serene and once more content. 'There's nothing for you to worry about,' she said soothingly to him, stroking the fine dark hair off his forehead as he squatted down in front of her. 'It's quite a natural function, you know.' She quoted Chapanuk without realising. 'I think we might send Henry up the road for Priscilla soon, though.' She was in little discomfort yet, simply aware of the great heaviness of the child in her cervix, and of the draining ache in her back. It had quite suddenly come through to the front as she sat listening to the two men as they tried with word and gesture to converse with each other. She had done her best to centre her attention on the two of them, knowing that at any other time she would have found their comic gestures and carefully re- peated words amusing - but the child had been unusually quiet for the last two days, and now she felt the shift as it began its outward journey. 'Gently, little one,' she said to it, as the ache started again. 'Don't try to hurry. You'll be here with us for a long time yet.' When the feeling faded, she rose and packed the two curious children off to their beds at the back of the kitchen. 'There's every chance you won't be disturbed tonight,' she insisted, as they pleaded to be allowed to stay up and help Priscilla. 'Anyway, thank you both for the offer, but I fancy that Richard here, will need to be kept busy and he, and maybe Mistress White would be better fitted to give Priscilla a hand. You be really good and quiet, and keep to your beds out of harm's way - and I'll do my best for you both.' She tucked them into their hammocks, and kissed them after they had said their night prayers. Afterwards, she went to her bedroom where her medicine chest lived. She took out the old medicine book and held it in her hands, leafing slowly through its fine yellow pages. Most of the medicaments and directions were straightforward enough for anyone to follow. However, there was a section at the back of the book which was medicine of a different nature. She gazed at the book thoughtfully. This was not something she wanted either found or read' and if any- 212 thing was to go wrong during the next hours, without a doubt, Priscilla and Samuel Fuller would seek help from her own medicine chest. She turned to the bed and tucked the little book under the mattress, close to her head. Afterwards, she began gathering her needs and was still immersed in this when Pris- cilla arrived with Richard. She swept in, skirts rustling, all competence and efficiency. This would be the fifth child she had assisted into the world in her eighteen years and, with Becky as the patient, she felt that the whole performance would be well managed. 'Well, at last it's on the way,' she said cheerfully. 'This is one baby I really have been looking forward to. Mind you, I shall expect you to give me the same assistance when the time comes . . . ' With the announcement of her coming marriage to John, her face shone with a quiet happiness. There was no great hurry. The two girls stripped the bedding down and covered the mattress with thick sailcloth as a pro- tection. The bed sheet was folded double and laid over the sail- clot~, and the pillows were put back. Richard brought water up from the brook, and Mary Brewster came in with the offer of her cauldron also. 'I've just come from Mistress Carver,' she said sadly. 'I fear that the poor soul will not last the night. The elder and the governor are with her now, and I am just joining them.' Her strong, kindly face was lined with sadness. She and Catherine Carver bad been through so much together over the years, and it tore her heart to see the other woman begin to come to pieces after all the tribulations she had stoutly surmounted when they were younger. Mary smiled over their neat preparations and left them, after kissing Becky and cupping her hands in her own lined ones. 'You have done so much for all your neighbours, my dear. You are a good girl, and you must know that the elder and I will be with you in your travail, praying for the safety and safe delivery of your little one, even as we pray for our dear depart- ing friend.' Her tired blue eyes filled with tears, and she turned away and quietly left them. The two girls watched her go. 'Poor soul,' Becky said. 'We can never really imagine what all the older folk went through before we all met on Mayflower. Now they have to watch each other die before any of their efforts can show the first fruit.' Half-way through that night, it became clear that young Gardenar was in no great hurry to make an appearance after 213 all. Feeling disappointed, Becky insisted that Priscilla return to her home, and then made Richard go to bed. There would be plenty of time to call them both when things really started to move. She stretched herself out beside Richard and lay quietly on her side, feeling Richard's warin body against her back. He fell asleep quickly, and the sound of his even breathing lulled her into a semi-dreaming state. Idly, almost from habit now, she cast about her for Chapanuk, to show him what was going on - but he was not to be found. She had been getting seriously alarmed about his disappearance until the child began to move. It was surprising bow accustomed she now was to his almost continuous presence~. They had certainly bad their disagree- ments on many things, but it was a great comfort to be com- pletely aware that be wished her no harm, nor would ever allow any to come to her from his people. The quality of his attachment to her was strange too, but somehow good to feel since be seemed to bold her in a kind of aloof reverence which was hard to define. That he should suddenly withdraw from her so completely at this particular time seemed very strange, and she bad begun to worry about him, striving to project herself to his side in his village, as be so easily could to her. She failed and, with the onset of labour, put the whole thing from her. She tried once more, lying quietly in the darkness, but now her concentration was only light. The whole of her inner body was becoming focused upon the inevitable functions of her situation. She felt the child stir, and her stomach hard- ened until it was a great smoothly rounded stone, pounding - burrowing, striving against her, to force the very bones aside and, molelike, bludgeon its way into the outer world. She slept at last with Richard's hand clasped lightly in her own, and dreamed of the Indian Hobbamock standing before her and shaking his handsome head in bewilderment. 'No, no,' he said in his gap-toothed lisp, 'I am not Hobba- mock . . . I am Hobbamock,' and be turned away from her, and she saw that both sides of him were face and front. He was Hobbamock with no back. She woke with the dawn and saw the pale glimmer of the children's faces peering round the door towards the bed. She raised herself on one elbow and waggled her fingers at them. 'I know ... I know. You thought the baby would be here by now, didn't you?' Humility came shyly across the room and stood close to her. 214 'I didn't hear anything,' she said, looking disappointed. 'I didn't bear the baby cry. I thought it might be feeding now! Becky put her arm round the little girl's waist and pulled her close. Poor little mites, these two. No one of their own any more and little enough to be happy about, they still seemed full of that fount of affection that some children will lavish upon others, while their companions are buttoned up and their feelings hidden away. These two were now firmly part of their little family. Humility had quickly gravitated to Becky's side, and was now her small shadow in the kitchen or in the field. Henry followed suit, and plodded stoically in the footsteps of his adopted father, Richard. 'It's all right, my sweet. I think that first-born babies are often the slowest. After all, they must pave the way for the others, you see! Humility nodded, her round eyes bright in the shadowy dawn light. 'I thought it had gone away,' Henry said from the doorway. He wasn't at all at home in this room, stripped of its familiar clutter and containing little more than the bed now, and the little oak cradle which Isaac Allerton had lent them. It was only Richard's reassuring presence, and the fact that he nursed a secret passion for Becky, that made him intrude at all. Their voices filtered through to Richard and he woke with a start. 'S'truth Becky. Did I sleep? How are you feeling?' Dawn streaked the sky with pink pearl, and he realised that she was sitting calmly beside him, very much in one piece still. He leant over, kissed her on the forehead, then climbed off the bed with a small groan. It was still difficult to gather his spent energy - even though be daily felt the lethargy of sickness losing its iron grip on him. She smiled up at him, the glimmer of her face bathed in a glow of fiery dawn. 'He'll get on with it when he's ready to,' she said calmly. 'He's as much right to a night's sleep as the rest of us! Across the road, lights were coming on in the Cooke house, and then the Allertons'. Somewhere further up the hill, one of the babies began to demand his morning feed. Strangely, it was this sound that suddenly seemed to bring the business of being born back to the child within her, for she gasped and buried her face in her pillow as a red hot sword suddenly pierced through her. She bit the canvas cover and held her breath, willing the child to continue its task. When the pain 215 had slowly drained away, she lay for a moment, feeling the blessed relief of its passing, She turned over and saw that Richard was lighting the lamps and hadn't noticed her sudden contraction. 'He is well awake now, by the way,' she said, as though she had done no more than draw breath. 'I think he means business this time, thank the Lord.' The morning dragged by. Richard was working on the thatching of Governor Bradford's house across the road in the next plot of land to Francis Cooke. The house was nearly complete now, the same size as the Carvers, with three good rooms off the spacious kitchen. Although he was one of the single men, as governor it was only right and proper that he should have a house which suited his position, and there was no doubt that be would send for a wife as soon as a ship called in on them. He had already intimated as much. From his position on the roof, Richard kept an anxious eye on his cot- tage across the way, but although there was a certain amount of coming and going by Susanna and, later in the morning, Mary Brewster and Elizabeth Hopkins, there were no sounds of the awaited arrival, and no increase in the tempo of activity. He climbed stiffly down from the roof at midday and went across to the house to get bread and cheese from the kitchen. Beside the table, Elizabeth and Mary were deep in conver- sation. They looked up quickly as he came in, painting smiles across their faces. 'How is she?' he asked, glancing towards the closed door of their bedroom. Mary rose and fetched him bread and a plump turkey leg. 'Your little one is taking its time,' she said evenly. 'Making things a little hard for Becky, I'm afraid. She's doing very well, for she knows what to do and is full of courage and calm but ... Sam Fuller is on his way, Richard, for there seems to be a blockage which is delaying things, and is tiring Becky considerably.' She looks old and crumpled, he thought. She was far and away the oldest woman among them, and bad sat the night out as Catherine Carver slowly slipped away. Catherine had finally gone just before dawn - and yet here was Mary now, with her practical strength and kindliness, calmly taking on the household tasks while Priscilla and Susanna looked after Becky in the inner room. He opened his mouth to thank her, but the words were cut off as a sound filtered through the wooden walls 216 from the other room, and his head jerked round to the door. It was a muffled cry. Not really a cry - rather an expression of agony dragged from unwilling lungs. It was low, squeezed through clenched teeth and bedding, but it lingered in the air like the groan of a dying steer. Richard strode across the kitchen and opened the door. The two women looked up from bending over the bed, and he was shocked to see their white, strained faces. 'I'm going to get Samuel,' Susanna said breathlessly, and pushed past him in a rush. He bent over Becky. She lay on her back, the clothes tumbled about her as they bad hastily been thrown as the door was opened. Her eyes were tight shut, her face the colour of the sheet. As be watched, another contraction took hold of her and her whole face contorted into a soundless scream. 'Oh, Richard,' Priscilla said at his elbow. 'Tell her to yell, for pity's sake. She's in such terrible pain and won't let it out.' Becky's whole body shook as though the child within her was battering her in its efforts to be free of her. The same terrible sound came from deep down in her throat, a lonely paean of acceptance of the agony being inflicted upon her. Shaken and frightened, he sat on the floor by her head and took her hand. He had to prise the clenched fingers from round the little bone locket of twin pigs which she always wore round her neck on a silver chain. She felt his hand, and the whispered words of love and comfort be poured into her ears seemed to give her strength, for she gave his hand a little squeeze, and two fat tears oozed out from beneath her tightly closed eyelids. He wiped them tenderly from her cbeeks and held her as an- other of the terrible onslaughts bit her. He stayed with her. People came and went, but his eyes never left her face until be beard his name being repeated and a hand gripped his shoulder. 'Richard, please.' Samuel Fuller had arrived and wasted no time in examining Becky as his eyes took in the situation. He had watched the effect of several contractions, and now straight- ened up and came over to Richard. 'There is something very wrong, my friend. I can see part of the baby's head, and the top is a bad colour. There is certainly a blockage, and I can't tell, for the life of me, what causes it. The bead is large ... f'sooth, it's very large, man. I think you must be prepared for a mis- shapen child and quite possibly Mistress Becky's demise, for she has begun to bleed, and we can't seem to stop the flow.,' 217 Richard never took his eyes from Becky's face. Somehow, it seemed impossible to move them ... if he did, she might not be there when he turned back to her. 'Do your best, Sam,' he said thickly, as- another contraction slammed her small body down into the bed. Someone lit the lamps later on. Several must have been brought into the room, for the whole place glittered, shadow- less. He crouched over her, gripping her hands in his and pressing his mouth to the backs of them whenever a lull allowed her to relax. There was no sense of time or awareness of any- thing other than the dreadful-mute suffering of her frail, stub- born body. It bad clearly become a battlefield of wills; the child's and her own. 'Don't fight it, Becky love. Let it come, let it happen ... He said anything that came into his head, just so that the sound of his voice might give her comfort and, at one point during a brief moment of quiet, her mouth opened, showing where her teeth had cut into her lower lip. Her mouth, with its perfect shape, had made the faint motion of a kiss, and sharp needles pricked the back of his eyes. As he gazed at her, her eyes suddenly flew open. For a second, they stared blankly at him with an expression of shock and horror, and then the sweet mouth distorted into a cavernous '0' and she screamed ... a terrible scream which rose to a high pitch and seemed to go on and on, long after the last particle of breath had been squeezed from her lungs. He dimly heard Samuel shout, 'The head's coming ... she's tearing . . . ' He was hardly aware of the sudden rush of movement round him, the strangled, ' . . . Oh my God in Heaven protect us,' from Samuel, and the frightened scream from Susanna. He saw only the dark shadow settle across Becky's face, and a smell as old and putrid as all the wickedness of the ages engulfed them both. He gazed at Becky, stupefied. She seemed to have gone the colour of the sea in winter. 'Becky ... Becky, come back ... don't go. It's over now. The thing is done ... Dearest Becks.' The greying stone image of her beauty lay rigid under his hands, and he buried his head in the dishevelled mop of her hair and wept. There was no feeling of time until someone shock his shoulder roughly, and be looked up to see Samuel's white, shocked face floating above him. 'You must take it away,' Samuel's voice said hoarsely. 'Quickly ... take this thing you 218 fathered.' Hands dragged him to his feet and he looked round him stupidly, as though be bad just woken from a deep sleep. The room was glaring with light, and the two women stood against the far wall, their eyes averted from the bottom of the bed. Susanna's lips were moving in prayer over chattering teeth. Priscilla just stared at him with a face so filled with anguish and shock that it brought him to himself with a jolt. On the floor at the end of the bed was a cloth. It was soaked in bright fresh blood. It was wrapped about something which moved in small strong jerks. He stared at the bundle and Samuel at his elbow pushed him towards it. 'Go on, sir. Take it from here, dig the deepest hole you can, and bury it.' He tore the cover from a pillow and thrust it into Richard's hands. Dumbly, Richard bent down and scooped the bundle up. As he fumbled for the open end of the pillow case, the bundle moved in his grasp ... the bloody wrapping slipped, and he was staring straight at it. A great grey mass, red veined and flecked with white scabs like tree mould . . . the huge head was hairless except for a crown of coarse, blood-matted tufts. There was no face, no face at all ... only a gaping hole for a mouth, which moved and gobbled at him, fat red sputum bubbles popping from it. The whole thing was like a slack, red-veined sack of offal, the puls- ing of its oversized heart clearly visible under the slimy skin. There were no arms or legs, just obscene frills where they should have been - moving with the beat of the monstrous heart like the motion of seaweed in the ocean's current. The vomit shot from Richard in a hot acid rush and spattered across the thing in his bands. He thrust it into the pillow case and turned, stumbling out of the house as though a great hand had given him a mighty shove. She saw it at -the moment it burst from her ... she felt and smelt the evil obscenity of it ... and knew that this was Hobba- mock's price. A pall seemed to fall upon her, a heavy curtain through which she fought to breathe. Somewhere far away, Richard said it is done, it is done.' She tried to put her band out to feel him, but he was gone from her and she spun slowly, a small leaf falling to the earth from a high tree. Some- thing was reaching her . . . what did it say? . . . something reached out and held her, but she was snatched by the wind and sent whirling away from him ... Winona ... Winona ... 219 fasten on me ... I can't, I have no strength left ... the wind. Catch hold of my hand, and I will stand against the wind, Winona ... Where did you go, Chapanuk? Why did you leave me? ... I can't hold. The voices fought and danced round her. The swirling wind tugged and snarled in her ears ... and then she felt the strong hands about her, strong arms, and the deep rich voice of Chapanuk strong in her head. She sighed and leaned against him and let the warmth of his presence flow into her. 'She's coming back. Praise be to the Mother of the Lord! Samuel Fuller's voice cut across the delicious floating sensation. She opened her eyes. The faces hung over her, elongated, dis- embodied. She suddenly had a clear image of Richard, stum- bling through the darkness with the bundle held away from him and the prayers and horror spilling from him. Her vision focused, and with it came the realisation of what had happened in this room. 'Priscilla.' Her voice was faint but steady. 'Pray get me my Bible ... and please will someone fetch the elder. I must be cleansed of that abomination! I 220 Part Three THE RECKONING CHAPTER ONE On the second Sabbath in June 1621, Priscilla and John were married. For the plantation's second v;edding, there-was a complete turnout of the village, for at last all the winter sick were on their feet again. The only exception was Becky. It was as well that she was still too weak to leave her bed. Had she been able to attend the celebrations, she would not have been welcome. Since the stillbirth of the child, there had been a perceptible withdrawal of the community from the little house and its owners at the bottom of the hill. There had been four people present at the birth besides Richard, fair-minded citizens who had been glad to count themselves friends of the Gardenars. Susanna, however, in her shock and fright at the memory of that night, had run out of the house and back to the comfort of her own home where she bad spilled the whole awful nightmare out to Edward and his brother Gilbert. She had scarcely noticed the presence of George Soule, Edward's manservant, and Richard Warren who lodged in the Winslow house. The story ran through the village like wildfire. A little embroidery was added with each telling, so that by the time it reached Mary Brewster, only hours later, the whole tale had become so distorted from the truth that it was scarcely recognisable. 'Mistress Gardenar,' so the story went, 'had finally been brought to bed with child, and had fought with the Devil during her labour in front of wit- nesses. They had reported her terrible writhings and blaspbe- mous language. She had obviously been possessed with evil, and all her hidden wickedness had finally burst from her in the birth of a monstrous abomination; the result - no doubt about it - of her copulation with the Devil himself. The sight of it had turned the mind of Master Gardenar and he had taken it, wrapped in rags, and run from the house in a fit of madness. Mistress Gardenar was a Devil Bride Mistress Gar- denar. . . ' 0 223 Mary Brewster put a stop to the immediate carrier of the tale, and her husband followed it up with a stem rebuke in his sermon, not once but twice during the following week. 'In a community as small as ours, this kind of hysteria was simply not to be permitted,' he said, 'especially since every detail of those rumours and wild tales was patently cruel and inaccurate? 'That Mistress Gardenar gave birth to a completely mal- formed child is beyond dispute,' he said, jutting his chin out as he did when he wished to press home some special point. His eyes swept the upturned faces of his congregation with stem coldness. 'I suggest that you look to your memories and consider the probable reason for that. Their child was conceived after our journey had begun. It was thetefore subject to the illnesses and diseases of us all, because no one has been more involved with constant sick nursing than Mistress Gardenar . From the moment we left Plymouth in England until the time she herself was brought to bed, she has been &eless in her fight for the lives of so many of us. Is it surprising that the strain of that work has shown itself in this deeply sad way? Should not every one of you be considering that sadness, and acknowledgmig what these two young people are going through now, rather than contributing to their pain? My own good wife strongly contradicts all this nonsense about a fight between Mistress Gardenar and the Devil. So. I am sure, will those others who were present. In truth Mistress Gardenar behaved with amaz- ing courage and control while giving birth to that poor creature. Its size will have cost her the most intense pain which she suffered in silence, my friends ... IN SILENCE! I was called to her side immediately after the birth at her own insistence - though she was scarcely retaining a hold on her life, and Master Fuller feared that she would not survive the night. That she is still with us, the Blessed Lord be praised, is surely a sign of God's faith in her, and of her own determination and courage. I therefore commit you all to cast this darnaging and super- stitious thinking from your minds and return Mistress Gardener once more to the place she has previously held in all our hearts.' In obedience, they tried. The subject was not: spoken of again, and Richard gradually sensed an easing in the tension of those around him. There were3 however, few enquiries about Becky's progress, and the Brewsters and Samuel Fuller re- mained their only visitors. The day Priscilla and John were married no one came to the house at all, and Becky lay quietly 224 in her bed, listening to the distant rhythm of pipe and drum and the faint sounds of laughter and singing. Priscilla had not been in the house since that night. Richard noticed that she stoutly refused to comment on the subject - but, all the same, she stayed away. Susanna had been sharply rebuked by the cider and by Governor Bradford as well, and it was now Ellen Billington who was the greatest culprit at keeping the subject alive among the servants and single men. Henry and Humility had been taken from the Gardenar house and lodged w'th the Billingtons, and Ellen had wheedled every small item of in- formation possible from the two children. In this way, the story stayed alive, whispered behind closed doors when inght brought credulity and fear to both the tellers and the tales. Becky thought over the situation miserably. 'How much more unhappiness was ahead? ... Oh Biddy, Biddy ... I wish you were with me now. There is no one to give me strength . . even Richard seems distant. I am surrounded by fear - even hate. What have I done?' She was aware of Chapanuk, standing back faintly from her, viewing her uncertainly from a distance. She rounded on him, unhappiness suddenly flaring to rage at the mere feel of his presence. 'It was you - for all that you say it was your vile Hobbamock. Why did you bring me back? What was the point of saving a life that is now useless? If that evil creature wanted my life, I would gladly have given it in exchange for Richard's . I said that right at the beginning, didn't I? ... didn't V He bowed his head. What was the good of these continual scenes? They repeated the same pattern of accusation and apology, day after day. He should have indeed let her go . . That had been Hobbamock's will and, by fighting him, he had achieved nothing ... only the anger of the Night God, and the furious contempt of this wayward object of his old man's mad- ness. 'How could I have told you of Hobbomack's intentions, Winona?' he said patiently. 'It was not in my power to change the way of things, and you would not have accepted that fact, would you? I could not bear that you should go, so I went as far as I could from you, rather than behold your agony ... but far is never far enough. Your distress reached me even at my furthest straining, and I could not help myself. I could not think of my life continuing without you, Winona. You fill my days. You are the glowing light of the life that remains to me without you I am without purpose.' 225 15 The words that had once filled her with astonishment and joy fell like pebbles on a winter shore. She turned on him, contempt and bitterness exploding from her. 'Regret those feelings, Indian, for I am growing. Growing in hatred - for you, for your gods, for everything that you represent ... I shall destroy you, old man, and you will not have the strength to prevent me. Call up all your wizards. Do your worst, for you can do no more to me than you have already done ... I curse you, by all the power of my strength, by all the power of my sister's strength, by all the power of the strength that came before us ... I curse you.' He recoiled as the great orange fire burst from her and engulfed him. He was wrapped in pain and smelled the hideous stench of his own burning flesh. Screaming, he fled from her into the outer darkness. The sun bad scarcely reached its zenith when the old man had a violent seizure. Namas had settled himself on the warm ground at the entrance of the wigwam after receiving bunches of sassafras from some small children. He was sitting in the doorway, sorting the young shoots, when he heard a sound from the dim room behind him. He looked over his shoulder into the wigwam, frowning as his eyes accustomed themselves to the soft violet shadows. Chapanuk had fallen back and lay among his beaver furs, clutching at his chest with desperate hands, the breath pumping from him in strangled gasps. The boy leapt to his feet yelling for Aspinet to be brought, and rushed to the old man's side. 'Winona, don't,' he heard his grandfather hiss. 'Winona . don't.' She gradually gathered her strength and began to show signs of a steady recovery. A week after John and Priscilla were wed, she left her bed and started to tidy up the confusion of Richard's attempts at housekeeping. When he came in for his midday meal, she was bent over the cooking pots, adding pungent leaves to the vegetable soup. His eyes softened as she turned, bearing him. 'Bless you, Becks. How good it is to see you there. Are you sure you feel strong enough to be up and about yet?' He came round the table and put both arms about her. She was as thin 226 I I . and fragile as a bird. Becky felt cold and shivered as she leaned against him for an instant. She didn't turn round, but stood quietly within the encircling arms. 'It's good to see you in your kitchen again,' he said in a low voice. 'I'm so very sorrv Pbout everything that has happened to us lately, love. It was no faidt of yours, and you've had so much to endure since. I reacted badly ... It was just shock- . Ixon't ever be like that again, I promise you. Time will make you better inside and out, and then we'll have another try. We'll make us a fine healthy Plymouth Son, and next time, I shall see to it that vou don't go taking on everyone else's illnesses.' She said in a whisper. 'I thought you felt like the others. I wouldn't blame you ... I saw it too, you see. I don't know how I did, but I saw it, and the sight will stay with me like a bad dream for the rest of mv life, Richard. I can't bear to think that I was growing a terrible thing like that for all those months, talking to it as though it was the fine beautiful child that I imagined, when really itwas.. .' He turned her round and hugged her fiercely against his chest. 'Don't say it. Don't even think of it. Forget the whole thing, do you hear? We have our lives to live here together. If you are going to let yourself be haunted by the memory of something which could happen to anyone, then both our lives will become unbearable. You just concentrate on regaining your strength, mv darling, and together we'll show everyone what a foolish bit of an old wives' tale this whole affair has been. Now, listen. The Elder and Mistress Brewster have asked to come in this evening and pass an hour or two with im. We shall seek their counsel, and trv to abide by what thev advise! 'It's Priscilla that I care about the most . . . ' she began. 'I know that. I have had a word with John on the subject. She does her best to ignore the rumours that have been going around and never discusses us with others, John savs. I think that she was disturbed and frightened by the whole business. She has only attended straightforward confinements before, John told me. Apparcntlv, she was very distressed by your long periods of suffering hefore it all hapnened. She's very fond of you, Becky, and the whole thing was the worse for that. John says that he is sure that the whole situation will ease once she sees you up and about again ... so today is a first step in the right direction, isn't 0' She nodded as he kissed the tot) of her head, and reached past him to stir her cooking pot again.' The planting completed, the Council met to discuss their next move. There were two more houses to complete, and the final thirty yards of the stockade to be erected. It was decided that Edward Winslow and a small party should make a courtesy call upon Massasoit, to put a seal upon their good intentions, and to show the Indian tribes that the Pilgrims meant to honour the Treaty. Edward had agreed happily enough to the mission, especially when Stephen Hopkins had volunteered to accom- pany him, with Squanto as their guide. They set off as the sun climbed up into another bright blue June day, armed with a message from the governor, and gifts of beads, clothing, and Jewellery. Against their will, they took provisions with them at Squanto's insistence. 'The winter sickness has taken the food from the land, sirs,' he said to the Council, when they ques- tioned the wisdom of weighing the three men down, and slowing their progress. 'During the past years, the Wampanoag have suffered many dead and many to starve. You will see as we pass villages that are dead. Many lie where they fell and are unburied still.' 'Surely the wealth of fish and the richness of the soil has kept the survivors in sufficiency, though?' Isaac Allerton asked. Squanto and the Indians who came to the village daily.all seemed well fed, and there was little evidence of starvation arnong any of their neighbours. 'Sir, Indians come here from their summer camps close to the water. To reach Pokanoket, where the Lord Massasoit stays, we cross the land far from the rich waterways. There, I tell you, is terrible proof of our people's sufferings. Bring food with you, sirs, and we will hunt where we can.' The day was warm when thev left, and the going was easy. The woods were well-spaced and provided them with plenty of cool shade. They followed well-worn tracks, and Squanto kept his nace slow to suit their own. 'We must get to Nemasket before the sun goes down, sirs,' he said. Bv midday, both Edward and Stephen were hot and tired, and called for a rest. They settled themselves under the wide- spread branches of a great chestnut tree, grateful for the chance to ease the packs from their backs. Squanto urRed them to drink all ' the water in their gourds. 'Finish it all, sirs, for here is the head of a small stream, and after this, we will travel far before we find the next sweet water.' It was no great effort to loosen their clothing, remove the hot steel belmets from their perspiring beads, and pour the con- 228 tents of their gourds down parched throats. They lay on the mossy ground and rested, waiting for the Indian to return with their water replenished. Stephen closed his eyes and listened to die fluting birdsong over his bead. It wunded much the same as the busy clamour in the summer vio~)ds of h-,s West Country childhood and, for a moment, he toyed with thefantasy of open- ing his eyes and finding himself back there - the whole of his life simply the dream of an eager boy. He listened bemused to a lark singing in the bright sky above him and the lazy buzz of bees in the nearby hawthorn. 'Here he cornes.' Edward's voice brought him back to reality with a jolt, and he opened his eves with a sigh as the stocky Indian trotted back towards them, dappled between light and shade. They continued their journey, marching in single file behind Squanto and keeping within a few paces of each other. Within the hour, they were joined by a chattering party of Indians who stopped them with cries of welcome, swarming round them with smiles and back patting. It was difficult to press on, but Squanto urged them forward, pushing their way through the chattering women and children, smilingly holding their hands out toward off the continuous inquisitive tuggin- at their strange clothing. The family foflowed, sometimes trottingat their sides, laughing and shrilling to each other while Squanto pressed them through the women and children and the three men who, it was clear, were discussing the white men and their manliness, judging by the giggles and sidelong glances. Squanto shooed them away like chickens, sometimes laughing with them, and at others, losing his temper completely and roaring at the whole noisy party. They had obviously been fishing on the coast, for they bore upon their backs great baskets filled with lobsters. Their chatter and laughter accompanied the little mission along the wide track until they rounded a high boulder among the trees and came upon the open fields surrounding Nemasket. It was not a large village. For the size of the fields surround- ing the few wigmams, the place was unexpectedly small. 'It is because of the sickness,' Squanto explained. The present village turned out to be less than a third the size of the original, and bad moved to the present location after the vears of -sickness and death bad decimated the tribe's famijies. 'The big town was over there,'he said, pointing out across the young corn towards a distant uncultivated area. 'Where our 229 dead lie, we cannot also live. Where the sickness has lived, the ground is cursed ... as it was at Patuxet.' The Sachem of the village welcomed them, bidding them come to his tent and rest. He and Squanto talked together with gestures and many glances at the two men, while Stephen tried hard to listen and understand what was being said, and Edward smiled at the hordes of children who pressed about them, shy and solemn-eyed. They ate bread made from Indian maize, and found it flavoursome and light in texture. Afterwards, they smoked a pipe together until a man joined them and spoke excitedly to the old Sachem and Squanto. Squanto turned to them with his broad smile, 'Sirs,' he said, looking from one to the other, 'these people have a request to make. They ask that you rid them of a plague of crows who are threatening to eat the whole of the young corn crop.' Eager for a bit of sport, Edward jumped to his feet and picked up his musket. 'Come on,' he said to Stephen. 'Let's rid them of their pests, and give them a show of strength at the same time.' The two men set about the preparation of their weapons, with Squanto acting as their fire bearer. The villagers looked on with keen interest and more than a little caution as the two long muskets were carefully primed. The wicked looking five foot long fire tubes were upended between the knees and the barrels checked. Then powder was poured into the barrel, followed by the shot, and a wad of tow. All was forced home with a rammer, the flash pan filled with a fine grained powder, the pan closed, and any loose grains carefully blown off. The two men com- pleted this performance with a certain amount of theatre, then strode off to the beleaguered fields, with Squanto trotting behind them, bearing their musket stands and a smoking fire brand. The rest of the village streamed after them, eager to see the terrible pipes speaking their death, but prepared to flee from the volume of their voices. The fields lay warmly peaceful in the afternoon sun. The corn was growing in a fine green haze, sprinkled with yellow meadowsweet. A rasping crowd of cawing blackbirds hovered and sank among the young shoots, ignoring the humans' stealthy approach, or else uncaring of their presence. The men stood a few paces apart with the stands in front and Squanto between them. Stephen raised his musket and placed the long barrel in its stand socket. Squanto lit the protruding match and then 230 stepped across to Edward to repeat his action. Then he moved back until he was well behind them, and stood waiting with his burning branch. The muskets were raised to the shoulder, the match applied to the powder, the barrels aimed - and fired. As the two men pressed their triggers and the smoking matches were pressed down into the gunpowder, the air seemed to explode with a great flash of fire and a cavernous roar, envelop- ing them with smoke and a harsh smell of sulphur. The Indian watchers recoiled in terror. The women and children fled screeching to the safety of their wigwarns. The men, quickly ashamed of their fright, moved back from the trees to where the white men stood beside their smoking weapons, surveying the damage they had caused.They had used hail shot to cover the widest area while the birds were still ignorant of their intentions. With some satisfaction, they counted fourteen carcases in the trampled corn. Thev shot for another half hour before the remains of the cloud of crows left the fields. In that time, they accumulated a pile of nearly eighty birds. They finally went on their way at Squanto's urging, leaving their hosts.gathered admiringly round the soft black pile of feathered bodies, murmuring their thanks and eyeing the stran-ers with renewed respect. There were still some miles to be covered before they could sleep where food was plentiful, Squant6 explained. Nemasket was still poor, but the great river over which they must go soon had fish in plenty to offer for their supper. They marched, always towards the south-west and, eyes swivelling, began to realise the extent of the devastation the Wampanoag had suf- fered. Their way took them through empty pasture lands, and skirted abandoned villages where skeletons lay whitely on the ground, picked clean by the wild things. Weeds and grasses grew up between their ribs and out of their eye sockets, soften- ing the tragedy of their passing. 'Why were they not buried?' Stephen asked, appalled at the sights on all sides of them. He was well aware of the Indian reverence for the sanctity of death. It seemed lo go against all their beliefs to find village after village abandoned in this way, with their dead left to rot, as though an invader had just passed through. 'They were cursed, sir,' Squanto said sadly. 'The earth of their village is cursed also. For others to have buried them would have been to violate them - for only their own people may perform the rituals. With so much death all about, it was 231 safer to go far away and try to hide from the wrath of the gods in these parts.' He smiled at them, suddenly, a wide sparkling smile filled with his happiness in their company and dismissing the unpleasantness along their way. 'I was saved from the death by the kindness of Sir Ferdinando Gorges, sirs. He was a good and excellent Sachem of your own people. I owe the rest of my life to him and to you. I give it to you, sirs, as you see.' At sunset, they came to the river where they found a crowd of Nemasket men fishing from a small weir. They were camped in the open, the weather being warm. Squanto talked with the fishermen, and the little party was soon made welcome among them. It was good to be able to take off the weight of their packs for the night, lift. the heavy steel helmets from their heads, and the corselets from their bodies. They bathed in the river and shared their cheese and cooked meats with their new companions, exchanging them for fresh grilled bass and more of the flavoursome corn bread that they had been given in Nemasket. They slept, with Squanto ever watchful at their sides, and rose at first light to continue their journey. Six of the fishermen joined them and showed them the path to Pokanoket. For several miles, they followed the river upstream, until they reached a point where there were sboals in the river bed, and the river appeared to be fordable. 'Sirs,' Squanto said with his old fashioned formality. The Nemasket men were shouting and gesturing at them, pointing to their hose and breeches. 'Our friends say you must remove your lower clothing, for it will be much damaged in the strong current of the river. They ask to be allowed to carry your packs and weapons so that they do not suffer. Please, do as they sug- gest, for they are good men and speak in honesty.' Stephen and Edward quickly did as he suggested. They took off their corselets, their shoes and stockings, and breeches, and banded them over to the six men, Then they waded into the icy water of the pebble-bedded river, picking their way into the fast-flowing current with hesitant steps. The Indians forged ahead of them, biirdens held high above their heads, clear of the fine diamond spray. Something suddenly smacked into the water close to Stephen, and before he had time to see what it was, a great cry went up from the Indians all around him. Intent upon feeling his way, he had not seen what bad happened, but his companions set up a screeching and a warbling, threshing the water as they waded, jumping and weaving across the wide stretch of water. 232 'What's going on?' Stephen called to Squanto, who was several yards ahead of him and shouting with the others. 'Do not stop, sirs,' he threw back over his shoulder. 'Follow as fast as you can.' Stephen peered through the threshing water at the opposite bank. Two figures were slowly standing up from their hiding place in the long grass, bows held tightly, arrows ready fitted for the next flight. The Nemasket men were still shouting at them, and slowly the tension left the poised figures and they lowered their weapons. As the first Indians clambered up the sloping bank from the river, smiles replaced the grim expressions on the two lined faces, and they came slowly forward. They were elderly men, neither younger than sixty, the only survivors of their village, which guarded the narrows of the fast flowing river. The sun slipped slowly down the sky, beating upon them as they plodded onward. Time seemed suspended, measured only in the small thud of each footfall. The shrill chatter of their Nemasket friends thinned to long periods of silent marching as they passed through more of the empty fields, devastated by the passing of the years of sickness. The great swathe of death seemed to have cut the whole land in half, since they had seen nothing of the like on Cape Cod, nor to the north of Plymouth. The only evidence they had so far seen in their own locality was the village itself, when first they had sailed into the bay. They met several parties during the day as they followed the river down to its mouth. From one group, thev bartered strings of beads for roast crab and dried shell iish. ~y late afternoon, the heat was becoming oppressive, and they were relieved when Squanto stopped and came to them. 'Sirs,' he said, 'we come soon to a small village and, after that, we are soon in Pokanoket. Eat where vou are offered food, for there is little in the town where there are too many mouths to feed already.' Thcy rested briefly in the late sunlight by a scattering of wigwams, glad of the ovsters and shad that they were offered, and relieved to find a village where life seemed normal, even if there were no more than five or six beehive homes scattered along the river bank. Thanking the sagamore of the village for his hospitality and parting with more strings of the brightly coloured beads, so admired by the tribes, they moved back on to the path, and were more than thankful when, only a couple of miles further along the track, they saw a light pall of smoke banging in the still air ahead of them. 233 'Pokanoket, sirs,' Squanto pointed. 'Please to prime your muskets to make welcome message of our arrival! 'Not while we are still on the move,' Stephen said firmly. 'When we get to Pokanoket and are allowed audience with the king, then will be time enough to prepare our welcome.' They came to a bend in the path as it followed the contours of the river, rushing noisily down its course to the waiting sea. As the bend curved to their right, the river mouth, and the Wampanoa& summer capital suddenly slid into view. It was a beautiful setting for any town, the small humped wigwams scattered like the casual throwing of a handful of nut brown seeds along the shore beneath a long hillside of cultivated fields. Family fires burned everywhere, their smoke spiralling thinly in fine columns up to the pall overhanging the whole town. The air was rich with woodsmoke. It was not the juniper and young pine of their northern fires, but a finer, more pungent scent - cedar and birchwood. The day began dying as they approached the sprawling town. A crowd was already gathered on a sandy spit, waiting to give obeisance to Kvtan. The visitors made their way to the space in the centre of the town, where the great king had his wigwam. They were surprised at the simplicity of the house. Apart from being slightly larger than the other homes around, there was little to distinguish this wigwam from the others. It had the same domed shape, walls made of rush mats sewn together over a frame of elm saplings. Inside, one half of the area was used for sleeping, and the other half for the storing of possessions and seating space for visitors. The sleeping area was a raised platform, built,clear of the ground by about twelve inches and covered in finely cured furs. Beneath the platform were stored the cooking pots and paraphernalia used by the women in their daily chores. The wigwam was dark, deserted but for a young brave whom Squanto sent off to warn Massasoit of the white man's arrival. Edward and Stephen squatted on the ground outside the wig- wam's doorway. They set about cleaning and priming their muskets, ready for the welcome fusillade. The armour made them hot, sticky inside their clothing, but they dared not remove it until the greetings had been made, The sun sank behind the hillside, an orange orb caught in a bed of black tree branches. Sliding out of sight, it left the land in a still, hushed twilight which deepened quickly into purple evening. The young brave and three companions materialised out of the 234 lengthening shadows and stood before them. 'Massasoit comes,' Squanto said, rising to his feet. They waited quietly, respectfully. Around them, the shadows fifl2,1 with s"ient,-,hapes. Men, women, children. They were the lo :~: of a multitude of eyes. Eyes which stared in fear, fascin- ation, awe, d;sdain. Stephen shifted uncomfortably, the helmet prc,::;,ng 'Into his damp forehead as he strained to catch sight of the great man's coming. He saw it at last as the cooking fires bo.-an to glimmer between the domed huts. A river of move- ment materialised, snaking its way between the wigwams, flowing towards them, a river of undulating humanity. Mas- sasoit was not dressed in his flowing fur cape and high feathered healdclrcss this time, but walked slowly at the head of his cortege, his brother two paces behind him, a figure of complete majesty. The two Pilgrims discharged their muskets into the air and held up their hands in greeting. There was a breeze of indrawn breaths and the shadows emptied in a rush. The two men laid their weapons at their feet, while Squanto called his greeting and the greetings of his English companions, and Massasoit came forward and stood while they kneltbefore him. It was a strange visit. They had expected more formality after their first meeting with the Wampanoag ruler. On that occasion, he had been surrounded by the pomp and colour of his whole court and warriors, dressed in their full war paint and regalia - rich colours, the heavy heartbeat of drums, the clash of spears, jingle of wampam shells. Here in the summer capital, formality seemed to have no place. An air of poverty hung over everything. Stephen and Edward were- dismayed by it. Mas- sasoit saw their troubled glances and lowered his eyes in shame and consternation at their knowledge. With simplicity and dig- nity, he welcomed them into his wigwam where light and pipes were brought. By now, it had long been recognised that no pleasantries were exchanged until the goodwill pipes were smoked clean. Once they had been removed, Stephen was able to convey the governor's good wishes and reiteration of their solemn treaty. He spoke with flair and eloquence, knowing that the Indian penchant for rhetoric was as important in official matters as the words themselves. Afterwards, he presented Massasoit with a scarlet hunting coat. The king examined it closely and then called to one of his wives. She appeared at his elbow and helped him put his long arms into the coat sleeves, and to settle it about his broad shoulders. It was slightly small, and the lace on the 235 cuffs ended short of his wrists, but he shifted his shoulders under the soft cloth and seemed delighted with his gift. When he sat down again, Edward presented him with a heavy copper chain. It was, he explained through Squanto, his seal of authority, for there were now many Indians visitinz- Ncw Plymouth, and food was running too short in the village for the Council to make a proper show of welcome. Therefore, from this time onward, any emissary of Massasoit who came bearing the chain would always be made welcome, and a suitable feast prepared for him alone. The king listened to Squanto's translation. It was all too clear that he understood about the pilgrims' growing food shortage, since he had none at all to offer his guests. He stood and spoke to them in a deep and passionate voice, the eloquence of his warmth and feelings of friendship for the white community flowing over them until they were hard put to keep their eyes open. Eventually, he finished talking, and they slept where they had sat, on the bed of the great king and his wives. Neither Edward nor Stephen slept much that night. Their tired eyes smarted from the smokey atmosph,--re. their 1-~,Oies itched on the bed furs; their empty stomachs rattled. A longing for their own homes began to fill them. Chapanuk struggled and fought back with all his might. For all the years that he carried, he was strong still, and it had never been his heart that would fail him first. The burst of furious energy that Becky had released was too powerful, however, for any heart to resist. It recoiled and faltered, bruised by the shock of its immense impact. For two days and nights, he wandered, lost. He hung over his comatose body, unable to re-enter it, but knowing, at the same time, that it was not yet his time to leave it for good. There was something more he must do first. Nor must Becky be allowed to reject him in this way, for she was an instrument of his need. He struggled to return to his cooling body. He watched the efforts of his grandson, saw the hollow eyed love and despair in the boy's face. He wept as Namas wept over him, and knew that when he put his hand out to stroke the boy's bent head, he would feel nothing, except maybe an easing of his pain. just before the third dawn, he found he was able to re-enter his body, He lay still, feeling the familiar weariness creep back into his limbs and the tight soreness which bruised his chest whenever he filled his lungs. Namas had fallen into a light, exhausted doze at his side, his hand still resting on the old man's gnarled and sinewed wrist. Chapanuk lifted his free hand and put it lightly over the boy's. It felt smooth and warm and young. 'I'm back,' he said. His voice sounded like a frog croaking in the reeds. Maybe that was who he would be the next time his soul was released upon Manibozho's beautiful Earth. The boy stirred, then lifted his head with a jerk as he realised that the old man had spoken. 'I am back.' He heard the breath escape in a rush from the boy's chest, and looked up with milky eyes as Namas bent over him, cup- ping his wrinkled face in both his hands. The boy stared down into the tired old face, seeing the strain and weariness that dulled it, seeing the love that needed no words. 'I thought you were going to leave us,' he whispered. 'I thought you were going without telling me, without giving any warning. I couldn't understand why you would do that to me, grandfather.' 'I will tell you when the time is near, Namas, my son. It is not far away now - but it is not yet, for I have something else to do, and it has not been made clear to me.' His voice faded. 'I am tired. Sleep now, for I shall also sleep, and no harm will befall us.' They slept and Aspinet, coming quietly in to see how the old man fared, found that all was well. They slept deeply, the old man and the boy, heads turned towards each other, an old hand locked in the fingers of the young. Becky's strength was a long time in returning. Leastways, that was how it felt to her. True, she was up and about by the time Edward and Stephen * returned from Pokanoket with their fine tales of the journey, and the maps they had sketched along the way. By that time, she was doing light tasks in the house once more, but had felt no great urgency to ask Ellen Billington for the return of Henry and Humility. just as well, Richard thought grimly, since he had already had a word with Mistress Billing- ton who had tartly refused to release them. 'They are not going back to be despoiled in that house,' she had said, pursing her thin colourless lips and slamming the door in his face. He had said no more then, nor mentioned the incident to Becky. Let her regain her energies a little more, and then he would go and see the governor. Becky loved the chil- dren, as he did himself, and to have theili about the house again would be the best possible medicine to lift her spirits. Priscilla and John called on the Gardenar house one evening, after the sun had gone down. At first, Priscilla was cool and upright, sitting primly on the edge of the long bench at the kitchen table and answering Becky's shy questions in little more than monosyllables, while the two men chatted comfortably over the pipes which most of them had taken to smoking. It was clear that John had insisted upon the visit. 'Priscilla, I'm sorry,' Becky suddenly said. Her eyes were huge in the dusky light, deep brown pools' of reflected hurt. Priscilla looked at her silently. Becky had become so thin, far thinner than at any time during the winter starvation. Her oval face was pinched and white, with great violet smudges beneath the beseeching eyes. Priscilla hunched her shoulders and lowered her head. 'It's I who should say that to you, Becky,' she said in a low voice. 'You have had enough suffering, without the rest of us making things worse for you.' She stretched her hand out across the table, and took Becky's small thin one. 'Please forgive me, Becks. I'm not usually a stupid flutterbrain, am I? I think I was so distressed for you that night, there was little that any of us could do to relieve your suffering - and then the birth - you see; it was a nightmare to us all, as well as to you. Then those rumours started and went round like liglitning. The Elder and Governor Bradford soon put a stop to them, but the damage had been done by then. They mean nothing to John and me, and I won't let you down again! For the first time in weeks, the heavy depression began to lift from Becky, and two fat tears welled up in the great brown eyes and slid down her cheeks. 'Hey, hey,' John chided, waving a schoolmaster's finger at her. 'No weeping and blethering then, young mistress. The object of the exercise is to bring us all together in love and harmony, so it's hardly the right time for the vapours.' They all laughed, relief in each other's willingness to mend the rift in their friendship smoothing over the circumstances of its happening. Becky tied a kerchief under her chin the next morning and slowly walked up the hill to the Billington's house. It was a small place, a replica of those others on either side, yet it man- 238 aged to achieve a neglected look where the neighbouring houses reflected their owners' interest and industry. The pine wood had paled to silver grey, the thatch dried to russet brown, and, at one comer, a sheath was coming loose from its pegging and sagged under the eaves. The door was open, so Becky knocked and peered inside. The room was dark as all their kitchens were, but this one lacked any colour or personality. Ellen Billington was making soap, and the unpleasant flat odour of the lye filled the room and wafted out into the street. ' Her head jerked round as Becky called her name. Her reaction was immediate. She dropped her wooden spoon into the bubbling lye and backed away. 'Don't come in here. Get away. Get away from that door.' Her voice was shrill with fright. Becky didn't move. 'I came to see the children and to talk to you about having them back,' she said reasonably. 'I'm better now, and Richard and I miss them badly. I came to thank you for looking after them, Mistress Billington, and to ask when it would be convenient for us to collect them.' The woman stared at Becky, her lips working soundlessly. Her hands picked at the edge of her apron, twisting and un- twisting the side seam. 'You'll not take 'em from here, Witch,' she suddenly spat. 'I'm not sending good, God-fearing children into your den of devils, to be tainted and trained in his ways. Get away from my door.' She crossed herself. Her eyes were narrow slits of hatred and fear. She suddenly darted across the room and slammed the heavy door in Becky's face, ramming the bolts home noisily. Becky stood like a statue on the threshold, trying to control the tremble which had begun inside her. She could hear the woman weeping loudly, banging pots, stumbling round the room like a blind woman. She turned and walked back down the hill, past the Whites' house and the Winslows'. She sat on the wide bed in the inner room, giving way to her thoughts. She wanted the children back. She and Richard loved them, and she knew that they felt the same way. It was not right that they should remain with that rough, slatternly woman. She had felt sorry for her many times, knowing that John Billington beat her and his sons, whenever the mood was in him. She didn't feel sorry for her any more. The panic began that evening, when the men came in from the fields and the forest and, a little while later, the day's hunting party followed. Raised voices were heard in the Billing- 239 ton house, but no one took much notice as it was now a regular part of everyday life to avert the eyes and ears from Billington's rages and Ellen's tears. This time, however, things were differ- ent. The door burst open, and Ellen went flying across the road to the Brewster's house. The elder and his family were sitting down to their evening meal when she called through the door, 'Sir, young John's gone missin' - please help us, sir. He's only a little lad.' Mary rose quickly and brought the distraught woman into the kitchen. The three sandy haired boys lifted their heads from their supper bowls and regarded her with solemn eyes. She wouldn't sit with them. 'No, No ... I pray you, get the men together and let's look for him before it's too dark.' Without waiting any longer, she fled and hammered on the next door~ calling for Stephen Hopkins. The men of the village, tired from their day's labours quickly gulped down their food and drink, and gathered i the Common House where they listened to Ellen Billington repeated pleas to go out and look for her son. 'Where is your husband?' Bradford asked ' surprised to find no worried father hammering on the table and demanding his rights at this moment. 'He don't care, sir. He says as John's tramping with 'is Indian friends, like 'e does sometimes - but it's dark now an' Vs never been out after dark. Frightened of it, 'e is.' 'Who was be with when he was missed?' Standish asked, pulling at his new red beard, It was growing well, and its flame colour was much admired by the Indians, to his complete indifference. 'Well, sir, 'e was with 'is father and Francis and Mister Warren, but the boys thought to set a hare snare and stopped to set them ... Then Francis went on after the men and thought little John was following behind ... but 'e wer'n't. Couldn't find where they'd set up the snare either after that. They called and called, and then they thought as John'd gorn back. He 'asn't though.' Tears streamed down the woman's gaunt face, and her hands twisted in her apron. Richard Warren hurried down the hill to fetch Billington, and a search party was quickly assembled. Hobbamock was in the village, and he offered to hunt'with them. By eight o'clock that evening, a party of seven men, led by Standish and Hobbamock left the village. Becky sat by the hearth in her ldtchen, sewing a tear in Richard's work breeches and humming softly to herself, In his state of weakness, Chapanuk discovered that be was unable to project at first, for the first time since his childhood. It might have worried him in other circumstances, but instead he felt a sense of relief. Such a gift only led him back to the woman and, at the moment, he was safer away from her; at any rate, until he was stronger and could defend himself - or until she had recovered her senses. He was content in those first days to lie on his couch and watch Namas going about his daffy tasks. The sick had begun to trickle back, now that it was known that Chapanuk was not about to die. He let Namas tend them, only adding his thin old voice when advice was needed which was beyond the boy's experience. He was learning well, young Namas. He had begun to show a new confidence that had been missing before. He would make a good Powwaw, a very good oneindeed. He began to feel the life pouring back into him. In the third week, he became aware of a singing in his head. At first, he thought that it was simply the life blood pumping through his old body, but then he realised that it had not been the normal sound ... it was more like a light humming from a voice - a female voice? 'Oh Manibozbo, protect me.' He prayed in sudden fear. 'Is it she?' He closed his eyes and focused on the sound within his head. The notes were faint and clear, as though they were sung under the breath. It had to come from the woman, and it was clear that she was up to something. What was it? 'Winona?' he ventured timidly. There was no reply, no break in the sound. The more be listened, the less be liked it. When it suddenly stopped, be was unready for it and felt confused, as though he bad just stepped out off a cliff top. His bruised heart lurched painfully and missed a beat. He put up a hand and pressed it to his chest, as though he could protect it thus. Trembling, be waited for the onset of pain. Nothing happened. His eyelids were heavy and he found himself slowly settling into the waking sleep of the elderly. Thankfully, he let himself go, welcoming the period of blankness through which he would regain his strength. His sleep was fifled with pictures. He watched a small boy in the forest. The child's skin was pale, the face blotched with ;6. 241 I tears and dirt. He had light golden hair, cut round cars and bead as though a basin had been upended over it. He was walking slowly, peering round the wide boles of the trees, pushing his way through the bushy undergrowth of the inner forest. Now and then, he would stop and cock his head, as though he were listening. Every few minutes, he opened his mouth and called, and then waited, shivering. It was night time, though the child was clear enough to him. It dawned upon him that the child was lost. 'Sit down,'he said gently. The child paused. He looked about him, but the night was thick in the forest as little moonlight filtered through the thickly leafed trees. He watched as the child hesitated and then sank down against the base of a wide chestnut tree. 'Why are you out here in the night?' be asked. The child's shoulders trembled. 'I can't find me dad. I ran after Francis, but I couldn't find 'irn either. I was looking at the blue flowers . . . they have yellow centres, and I was going to pick some for me mum. She likes things like that, flowers and things. Then I couldn't find Francis and me dad * * * and I don't know me way back.' The quavery voice dis- solved into tears, the sound of his sobs cutting across the quiet song of a night bird nearby. 'Do not worry,' Chapanuk said to him. 'Sleep now, and tomorrow we will travel together.' He watched as the boy curled his small body into a ball, pressing into the mossy earth at the tree's base. The golden head gleamed for a moment as a slither of moonlight touched it in passing. The great heaving sobs lessened, and the child slept. Standish's search party returned at dawn, dropping with tiredness and still without young John Billington. Even his father bad begun to look more worried than truculent, and for once he offered a gruff word of thanks to those who had spent their night with him, searching for the boy. Hobbamock had left them to warn the Indian villages nearby to keep their eyes sharp for a sighting of the child. There was little more to be done until a second party could be formed to search for him in the light of day. There had been little sleep in the Billing- ton house, and Humility and Henry bad spent the night huddled in the darkest comer of the kitchen, pressed close to each other for comfort. They had been forbidden to leave the house, or to go down the hill to the Gardenars. Ellen Billington, 242 wrought up with her grief, called upon the Lord to bring her John back and damned the wicked woman living in their midst. Without her and her cures and curses, there would have been no winter sickness ... no loss of her boy now. Half-way through the night, Becky realised that she could project a little way. She had been going over Chapanuk's patient instructions during the days when he had tried to school her to use her power to its full extent. Try as she would, she had never been able to master the art of projection. Until now. Without any real effort, she suddenly found herself looking down at the two small sleeping forms of Humility and Henry. At first she thought that she must be dreaming, but then she realised that she was actually outside her own body. There was no sensation of floating or of aerial movement. She simply existed in another place. She stared down at the two children. They were curled up, close together on a straw mattress at the back of the Billington kitchen. Two small bunks had been built into the end wall, and Francis was tossing fretfully in the upper one. Ellen was still fully dressed. Her hair was capless, dishevelled. Her face, tallow white in the candle glow, looked skeletal, the skin stretched parchment thin over a flesbJess skull. She looked like the walking dead. She leant against the table, staring into the dancing candle flame in its wooden bolder. Her eyes were colourless glass - vacant, lifeless. Becky turned back to the children and bent over their sleeping forms. Henry's nose was running. Humility had been crying into her rolled-up apron which she was using as a pillow. So much sadness in their little lives. So little joy. Was this to be the pattern of things for them all from now on? She gently kissed Humility's tear-stained check. 'Poor little moppet ... I shall bring you back to Becky and Richard, you and Henry. You'll see.' A muscle twitched in the little girl's face and a small sigh escaped from her. She snuggled down deeper into the straw. Henry smiled broadly when she kissed the tip of his freckled nose. It was a small~arca of embarrassed delight for him when- ever she did that to him. The experience was just as delicious in his dream. She left them and found herself back in her own home. It reatly wasn't at all difficult once one became used to the conscious sensation of intended projection. It wasn't flying as she loved to watch the birds doing, swooping and soaring with- out any apparent effort. Rather, it was a simple accumulation of the will . . . and then forward into wherever the will decreed. 243 She watched,her sleeping self, lying against Richard's long back, an arm thrown across him. 'How peaceful and untroubled we look,' she thought. 'This is how Chapanuk sees us.' She put out a hand and stroked her own head as Chapanuk had so often done. Would it be possible to feel that? There was a sleepy mistiness about her and she sank back into the bed. It was certainly tiring this first time, but such a wonderful experience. Would it be possible to keep it up . to extend projection to greater distances? The old man was better. He had seemed more worldly and cheerful lately than Namas bad known him for months. All the same, there were still times when he sank into his dreaming trance, and maybe he was a little light in the head these days - as some old people are - for his explanation was odd, to say the least. He was, he said, taking care of a small white boy who was in the mainland forests, wandering lost. 'It's a strange thing, Namas,' be said more than once. 'I know where be comes from, but I don't seem to be able to guide him back to Patuxet. It's as though something were stopping me when I try to turn him to the north. All the time, he is being edged away from Patuxet. All I can do is keep him alive by telling him which berries and nuts to eat, and which to avoid! Namas regarded his grandfather with affection and com- plete understanding. If the old man wished to talk to him in parables, then it meant that there was a message of some sort in them. At the moment, he could understand nothing but that was not unusual with a Powwaw of such wisdom and nobility. All would become clear in time. Meanwhile, the old man was definitely better in health, and would soon be able to leave his bed. A brightness was returning to the milk white eyes. His reservoir of life was not yet empty. On the evening of the fourth day of young John Billington's disappearance, Ellen finally collapsed. She allowed herself to be put to bed, and Priscilla to bring her a draught of peony seed, distilled and boiled with meat broth. Priscilla forbore to mention that she had begged the infusion from Becky, who had prepared the mixture without complaint. In return, Pris- cilla brought the'two children down the hiU to her. There had been tears from them all. Becky hadn't meant to be so weak but the feeling of their thin little bodies pressed into her arms, was more than she could bear. Henry fastened himself round her neck with small steel arms, and rubbed his cheek against bers, as though he never meant to let her go again. Humility bad crept into the curve of her outstretched arms and snuffied quietly against the front of her dress. 'How ridiculous we are,' she laughed, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. She gently disengaged herself from Henry's bear hug. 'Never mind, we won't be parted again, my pets. Now, let's see what's in the cooking pot. You don't look as though either of you have eaten since you went away.' It was good to have them home. She was rewarded by Richard's delight when he returned from the timber yard to find the children scrubbed clean and freshly dressed, fidgeting with excitement as they waited to surprise him. Their delighted squeals could be heard further up the hill, and the Brewsters smiled at each other, hearing the sounds. They knew what Priscilla had quietly done. It was a wise move. The children were obviously devoted to the Gardenars, and their presence would do much to lessen Becky's loss. Dawn was scarcely more than a glimmer in the eastern sky when a voice called from outside the main gate. The village was rising and preparing itself for another working day. The gate guards peered over the stockade. 'Who calls?' Stephen shouted down. 'Tokamahamon,' came the reply. That was all right. He was known to them all, a good friend. They wrestled with the heavy oak bar which kept the gates stoutly secure against intruders. Tokamahamon sounded in a hurry. He slipped through the gap before there was time to swing the heavy gates open wide. 'Sir,' be said urgently to Stephen, his gaunt features wide with smiles. 'The boy is found. He is with a tribe at the bottom of the cape. There will be more news tomorrow, but it was thought that you would wish to know at once that he is safe.' 'He comes soon now,' Chapanuk said to Namas. 'The white chiid is at Cummaquid. Send a message to Iyanough and direct him to send the child here to me.' Namas did as he was bid. There was an almost jaunty air in the old man's manner this morning. Was this the thing he had said that he must still do before he left them? In silence, Namas bowed his head and went to ask Aspinet to send the runner to Cummaquid. Chapanuk had also directed that the old woman there should be prepared for her sighting of the white men. Why would she see them when the boy was to be brought here to Nauset? It was here that the white men would come, seeking this boy. Chapanuk followed the stripling figure of his grandson as he loped away from the wigwam. His blind eyes twinkled. Ha, the boy was troubled with jealousy. He was afraid of the white child. They waited for three days. On the fourth day, the small boy arrived and was quickly brought to the Powwaw. His clothes were torn, and one arm of his shirt had been completely ripped off * Someone had tidied his red-gold hair and placed a head- band of decorated leather round it. There was a bright cock- erel's feather stuck in the back. He was very upright, small and thin as a reed, but he looked about hftn without fear. Aspinet brought him before Chapanuk. The child held the young Sachem's hand in a tight grip, but showed no other sign of timidity. He stood and gazed.at the old man, sitting in the sunshine. Chapanuk looked sightlessly over him, Solemn blue eyes studied him in return. 'Welcome to our village,' Chapanuk said gently to him. The boy's head tilted sharply at the sound of the old man's deep, musical voice. He had no idea what this man was saying, but he would recognise that voice anywhere. He waited, listen- ing for it to come again. Chapanuk smiled. 'Yes, you know my voice. One day soon, you will understand what I am saying to you also.' John tugged eagerly at Aspinet's hand. 'Please, sir, I know that man's voice ... he helped me in the forest! Aspinet looked down at him kindly, not understanding a word the child said, but pleased to see the bright eagerness in the thin little wbite'face. The Powwaw lifted a gnarled hand and beckoned. The boy hesitated, then slowly dropped Aspi- net's hand, and came to the blind man's side. The hands stretched out and touched his face lightly, running over the soft childish contours, smoothing the fine golden head. Then be patted the boy's shoulder, and one hand gently pressed him down be side him. 'While others watch us,' the deep velvet voice 246 said, 'so shall you understand what I say to you.' John looked up at the old man in astonishment. His leathery lips bad not moved, yet he was speaking, and he could under- stand every word. just as he had done in the forest. 'How do you do that?' he asked, fixing puzzled blue eyes upon the thin granite mouth. J can hear you and understand you and yet you are not speaking, for your mouth is still! 'That's right! The blind eyes seemed to twinkle; the band held his shoulder a little closer. 'For some of us, many things are possible. You must never doubt, boy, but believe all'that you see, and know in your heart to be so.' 'They found me near the village of Cummaquid,' John said breathlessly, experimenting with this new and exciting phe- nomenon. 'I was hungry and they gave me fish and fruit and some strange food.' 'Who tidied your hair? It was full of brambles from the forest.' John wrinkled his nose. 'It was one of the women. It pulled like mad when she put the comb through it. They laughed when I cried. They pulled my hair even harder.' Chapanuk smiled. 'Never cry. Young warriors never cry. It is the earliest sign of a man's courage. Tears are for the women. Pain must be taught to go inward, to be offered to your god as we offer pain to ours.' John looked at the old man thoughtfully. He bit his lip. He was eight years old, and logic was as clear to him as the fingers on his bands. 'I cried in the forest,' be said. 'I don't think I was frightened of the dark, like I am at home, for very long. I think I was frightened of wild animals, or maybe falling into an Indian trap pit! 'You did well in the forest. I sball call you Ponemah, for you have passed that test. Ponemah means "Blessed Hereafter". While you are here with me, that will be your name! The circle of watching villagers had followed the one-sided exchange with awe. It was clear that this small golden child and their own Powwaw were holding a close conversation, for the boy chatted to the old nian in his odd flowing language, like the gobbling of wild turkeys, and the old man moved his head and gesticulated with his hands, as though he, too, was speaking, yet there was no sound from him. 'Ponemah,' the child said slowly, and they looked at him, startled as they heard him say something in their own tongue. Chapanuk sighed and turned to Aspinet. 'Take the boy to 247 your woman and bid her look after him,' be said. 'He is to come to me here each morning after dawn, and again after sunset. His name is to be Ponemah. The men from his own village will come for him before many days.' They came. They had set out in the shallop with Squanto and Tokamahamon, John Billington, Stephen, and eight other men. They had been guided by the two Indians to Cumma- quid, and were more than a little nervous at the sight of so many Indians of a strange tribe, not under Massasoit's rule. The Sachem Iyanough had, however, been most welcoming to them and, through the translators, had made them speeches of unusual courtesy and charm. They were relieved and delighted with their welcome. They had met an old woman who wept when she saw them, beating her chest and tearing at her thin bair. Such grief, Iyanough had quickly explained, was caused by the sight of their skins. Some years before, white men bad come trading in these parts. They had tricked many of the tribe's young braves on to their ship, and had sailed away with them. Her two sons and three grandsons had been among the stolen men. Through Squanto, Stephen had apologised and tried to express his sorrow and anger at the actions of the traders. All white men were not like that one bad shipful, he had told her. They gave her beads, a cambric cap, and a pair of black, buckled shoes before they left the village. They had sailed out across the bottom of the bay with Iyanough and two canoes full of warriors, and had come to a stretch of beach where a host of Indians silently awaited them. It was a shock to discover that they were in the very place where some of their companions had been sharply attacked by Indians the previous winter, when they had been exploring the Cape in the shallop . Their Indian friends assured them that their reception would be much warmer this time. Iyanough and his braves landed ahead of the shallop, to provide a safety guard for the white men. Looking around them, Stephen guessed that there must be at least a hundred or more men in the silent crowd, and decided that it would be wiser to stayin the shallop, slightly off shore, until the Sachem of Nauset arrived, All the same, they welcomed two lesser dignitaries on board when it was explained that they were the owners of the corn that the Pilgrims had found on the cape and taken for their own use. Apologies were made immediately and with some ceremony this time, as their action had long been on the council's conscience. Squanto explained with great eloquence 248 bow the Pilgrims had asked Massasoit to extend their apologies, and to suggest a suitable price for compensation. It was agreed after a great deal of baggling and raised voices, that corn should be exchanged for corn, and that the two Sagamores should come to Plymouth after the harvest and collect their dues. The sun set, and not long after, Aspinet arrived with his train of warriors and attendants, to bid them welcome. At his side was young John, and the Nauset king obviously parted with him in affection and regret. He was dressed in the fashion of a young warrior with leather breech cloth, a small cape of beaver fur, and a decorated leather band round his head. They bad stained his pale skin with bear grease and berry juice. He was pleased to see the rescue party, but was clearly loth to leave his new friends. 'He is a good king,' he told the shallop party. 'They have a wise old man too, who speaks to me in my head. He led me from the forest and showed me what to eat there. My Indian name is Ponemah! They thought that he was too excited to be speaking co- berently and humoured him. Even his father was too pleased to see, him to give him the beating that he had threatened. Before they left Aspinet with their final thanks and gifts, runners came bursting through the crowd with a piece of news that filled them all with alarm. Massasoit's enemy neighbours, the Narragansetts, had at- tacked Pokanoket and had taken the great king prisoner. CHAPTER TWO The sun moved down the year towards the first harvest, sailing high above a still indigo sea which misted into mute distance. The days were fine and warm, with wisps of diaphanous cloud smudged across the peerless sky. On most days, a light breeze flirted with the rolling spectrum of marbled forest. The village had turned to silver, the pine and cedar cladding weathering 249 in the warmth from pink and gold. Sweet smelling roses and honeysuckle grew in abundance in the woods and cottage gardens, climbed over doorways and sills, softening the stark wooden contours of the houses. Corn flourished in the big field, slowly changing colour as it ripened, delicate green through palest yellow to deep, rich gold. A feeling of hope spread through them all, as every man surveyed the heavy fruits of the first year's labour. The excitement the whole village had felt when the rescue party returned with young John Billington was quickly marred by the rest of their news, that the Narr agansetts had taken M ' assasoit. The trip down the Cape had seemed to ensure that they now had the friendship of the Cape Indians, but, in spite of that, their position in Plymouth suddenly became a more tenuous one. Squanto and two of their most reliable allies, Tokamabamon and Hobbacomock, were sent off to Nemasket to discover what the exact position was. Within a few days, news came back that they bad been set upon in Nemasket by Corbitant, a sachem of Massasoit's court, who had always advised against treating with the white men, and who was known to have connections with the Narragansett. Bradford quickly sent off a party of armed men under Miles, bent on revenging the possible death of their friends. They returned with a tale of failure. Squanto was safe and well with Tokamahamon, and the village was peaceful. They had inadvertently attacked a wigwam of women and children, thinking that it housed Corbitant. Apologies - and a more care- fully planned show of strength bad been necessary to illustrate the intentions of the Pilgrims to honour their side of the treaty with their Indian friends. They brought back two villagers whom they had wounded in the skirmish, and Sam Fuller kept them in his house until their wounds were bealed. A short time later, word reached them that Massasoit bad been returned un- harmed, and the ripples of their alarm settled down once more. Richard joined an expedition which sailed north in the shallop to find and trade with the Massachusetts tribe. They returned just before harvest time, loaded with beaver skins, and feeling more confident of having made a good impression upon the northern tribe. August gave way to September. The light assumed a special iridescence, colours deepened and flared, the sinking sun's afterglow painted the sky in splashes of orange fading to palest yellow, to lettuce green - to fluid peacock blue. The pines 250 filled the air with their warm resinous scent. The woods slept but for the drowsy cacophony of a myriad of insects. Becky found she badly missed Richard's attentive presence. There was always plenty of chatter and laughter from the two children in the house during the day, but there were still few visitors. Somehow the tragedy of the birth, with its undertones of things deep and evil, had checked the warmth and friendship she had enjoyed with most of the families. The Brewsters and Hopkins were as kind and friendly as they had always been. Priscilla, newly pregnant, always welcomed her to the house, but rarely seemed to find the time to come and sit with Becky in her rose-filled doorway. Somehow.' although their friend- ship had been re-established, it was still not the close relation- ship that they had previously enjoyed. And then Chapanuk's absence felt a wide gap. It was a gap of her own making, she Liew that. He was there when she chose to make a move to let him in once more. After her blast of fury though, he would not come forward until she instigated the invitation ... andshe couldn't bring herself to wish for it. Though the memory of pain was fast receding, she still held the picture in her mind of that flash of her very first accidental projection when, with- out realising what she had done, she had for a few seconds hovered over the scene of her own child's birth ... and had seen the thing emerge from her, the ghastly grey and crackle- veined thii1g. She still shuddered at the memory, and in no way blamed Priscilla or even tile shy Susanna for their cautious attitude towards her. There was always plenty to do during the day, the children to feed, the household chores to be done, rosewater to dis from the beautiful heavy musk roses that grew in wild pro- fusion in the hills. It was at night that the loneliness began to drag her spirits down. There had always been someone in her life. Childhood nights had been shared with her twin sister Biddy - her presence, her companionship and sometimes her nightmares. ThenRichard had taken her place - and Chapanuk had filled the sleeping moments. Now, there was suddenly nothing, no one, and even the power of sleep seemed to be slipping from her. She began to fill the long night hours by practising the projection which had happened by accident the first and second times. Slowly, it began to work more smoothly, and without the primary draining of her strength and energies It became possible to roam the night, watching the earth creatures about the business of their living. She watched deer come down to the water's edge on Billington lake. They waded in, in twos and threes, bending their slender necks and flaring silken nostrils as they drank. Now and then, a forest noise made them jerk their heads up, wet muzzles rimmed with silver as they smelt the air for danger, soft eyes wide with alarm. She longed to put out a hand and stroke away their fear, smoothing the gleaming necks with gentle hands. She spied a small brown bear one night and a pair of acrid smelling moose another. Beaver, lynx, racoon and fox - all appeared on the lake's moonlit shores while she moved with the air and watched. if they were aware of her, they made no sign. In the mornings when dawn heralded the start of another day, tiredness bowed her thin shoulders like the weight of a heavy yoke. When Richard returned in the shallop, her spirits lifted at last. He bad brought her a beaver skin jacket made by the Massachu- setts squaws. There were, he said, more women surviving in the once great tribe, than, there were men. There was even an Unusual situation in that their sachem was the widow of their murdered ruler, Nanepashamet. It was time to bring in the harvest. Every man, woman, and child took part, and the small grain barn which had been pre- pared for this moment was quickly filled. Lines of reapers moved slowly down the great field, scything with the slow fluidity of the forgotten years of their youth. The husks and stalks were gathered by the women and children, and the precious golden grain was stripped and poured into sacks, the rest stooked to dry out to make good winter hay. The land was lavish with wild fowl and venison, the sea and river bursting with fish and eel, the cottage gardens rich with herb and vegetable crops. There was no illness in the village now. They bad begun to fill out, the pinched winter faces to tan, and weather in the summer sun. Governor Bradford marvelled at the extent of their abun- dance, and declared that they must have a great thanksgiving for the blessings and rewards that had been heaped upon them. In the tradition of English farmers down the centuries when the harvest had been safely gathered in, they gave their thanks to God, and then turned to days of dancing, sports and feasting - and hang the cost. It was to the latter that Massasoit would be invited as the town's bonoured guest. Plymouth vibrated with activity. Squanto s ' ped off into the forest, carrying the governor's goodwill message to his king. Indians from the surrounding villages entered into the growing 2 _51 _2 spirit of festivity, and came in to offer their help. The women pilgrims baked, and checked the first of their wine. The men erected tripods of pine saplings,and prepared to spit roast and smoke the whole carcases of venison and wild turkey, gleaming bass and cod. The few chickens that had survived the sea voyage had multiplied, and with wild duck and goose, gave a plentiful supply of eggs for all sorts of country dishes which would be strange and fascinating to their Indian guests. Most of the cooking was done outside at this time of year. The days were hot and sultry, and the houses with their small windows quickly became unbearably hot when the hearths were alight. For more than two weeks, preparations continued and lar- ders began to bulge. There would be a small concern about the sufficiency of their supplies, since Tokamahamon assured the council that Massasoit would bring a large entourage with him, and the neighbouring Indian families were certainly not going to be left out of all the merrymaking. Clouds gathered and hung humidly over the assembly as they waited for the arrival of the king. When he came, he brought with him only one of his four wives, his brother, and the families of both of them. Ten dignified sachems repre- sented his court, and ninety warriors formed his guard. A small seed of concern again gnawed at the governor and, welcoming the guests, who outnumbered the hosts two to one, murmured to the men of the council to ensure that the Plymouth people ate sparingly and were not over-lavish in their offerings of food and drink. Massasoit sent out a hunting party, and they returned with four deer and quantities of wild fowl. They feasted together for three days. Warmed by the white men's firewater, the Indian men and women danced their strange rituals of homage and joy, thanks and brotherhood. They sang and wrestled, smoked, and made long and un- intelligible speeches, while their hosts bowled and competed against each other in shooting matches, fencing, and their own country dances. The children sang and danced around an improvised maypole, and those who had musical instruments, played them by the hour for the pleasure of their Indian audience, whose music came only from their own voices. The bond of brotherhood had never felt more secure between the two peoples. An Indian approached Becky as she worked at the long tressle tables with the other women, piling small pones of bread into baskets to take among their visitors. He came to her 253 hesitantly, with respect and uncertainty in his deepset eyes. He prostrated himself before her, chanting muffled words that she couldn't understand. Then rising, he gave her a bunch of fresh picked flowers, roses with wild anemones mixed with young fern fronds and delicate vine trailers. The other women stared. 'The great and wise Powwaw of the Nauset people sends you these.' The boy spoke softly. He was very young, in his early teens, but already taU and straight-backed. He eyed her shyly, with fine, wide-spaced eyes, dark as his shining hair, thick-lashed. They slid away from her, hiding their admiration. Becky flushed, holding the flowers awkwardly in her hands. She felt the women's curious stares. 'What are these for?' she asked the boy in her hesitant way. She was still shy of speak- mg the Indian tongue, as she and Priscilla were the only adult women who had bothered to learn a smattering of it. It could so easily become another nail of contention in the coffin of their hidden resentment. 'They come from Chapanuk,' Namas said in surprise. 'He who has conference with you.' Her flush deepened 'It looks as though I have an admirer,' she laughed nervously to the listening women. 'He is very young, but if it becomes difficult, would someone kindly bring Richard over here?' With luck, they wouldn't pick up what the boy was saying, and she could pretend that the flowers were from himself. She turned back to the boy. 'He is known to me,' she said a little stiffly. 'He is my grandfather. He has been very sick, and we thought that he was going to leave us, but he is recovering. now. He wished me to tell you that his heart is full of sorrow, and that his time is not long in the world. He wishes me to ask your forgiveness for the pain our gods have brought you. He asks that you lighten the weight you have put upon his shoulders! The boy said the words slowly5 as though be had rehearsed them a hundred times before, and repeated them now, parrot fashion. His eyes suddenly fastened upon hers and he said in a rush. 'He is an old man, Wise One. He is sick, and his mind is often closed to us who are his people. He will not tell me what he did to cam your anger, but I beg you to forgive him, please. To, see him suffering under the weight of your anger is very terrible for those who love him.' Before she could control the rage which welled up in her, 254 she turned on him. 'If you know nothing of the blow be dealt me, don't ask for impossible favours. Chapanuk deserves all that he is getting. He is not always the good and wise com- forter that you and your people see. Take these away ... and tell him to leave me alone, unless he wants to be again struck down as he was before! She Rung the little posy of wilting flowers at Namas's feet and turned from him, pushing her way through the crowd and away from the foreshore. Elizabeth Tilley giggled nervously. The women glared at Namas. He returned their stares, and then looked down at the bruised flowers at his feet. His foot hovered over them for a minute. He changed his mind and turned on his heel. She didn't often weep. There was always a small fount of optimism in her nature, which cheered her out of most moments of unhappiness. But now she wept. She wept for the agony of her wasted months of pregnancy, for need of Biddy, whom she knew with certainty she would never see again, for, un- willing love of this noble but crazed old man who hurt her harder than he was able to love her. She wept from sheer fear, because she was once again with child. The weather cooled and slid quietly into October, then Novem- ber. The sun still shone, but its warmth was old, mellow - buffeted by the northerly winds which swept across the land, leaving the growing things chilled and shrivelled in their wake. The villagers began to blind their windows with new paper panes, stuck to the wooden sills with strong fish glue. This winter would find them better prepared for storm and snow. It would find them physically strong, and better fed than the previous year. - There was a special prayer meeting on 11 th November to commemorate their first landing, and to ask the Almighty's help in the months ahead. The meeting had hardly began when it was interrupted. Every man, woman, and child was at prayer, head bowed as Elder Brewster put into words the fmour that was in everyone's heart. There was a sudden hammering on the closed Common House door, and a Cumma- quid Indian looked in on their gathering. 'Sirs,' he said, looking nervously from one face to another, Cmy sachem says I tell you there is a great wooden bird in the Cape Bay. It may be friend or enemy, we cannot tell, but Iydn- ough bade me come to you for it will surely come here soon.' 255 There was immediate confusion, the prayers of thanks for- gotten. Everyone sprang up, and Miles quickly joined the governor. Two lookouts were sent off to the sandy headland with the spyglass. From the runner's description, it was cer- tainly a European ship. French, Dutch, or maybe even English. It was too soon for the arrival of one of their own ships in reply to the letters which Mayflower had taken back, but the New England Company might have traders still in these waters, late though it was in the year. Miles dispatched his gunners. The three heavy gates were closed and manned, and the women given strict instructions to bring their families to the Common House if an attack began. The tension became intensified as all eyes watched the two lookouts running down the sloping headland to the south of the Town Brook. They were still too far away for their shouts to be understood, but from their obvious excitement, it seemed that the ship was indeed in view, and on its way towards the bay. As they were let in at the Brook Gate, their excited voices carried up the hill. The ship was approaching under half sail and, from its pennant, appeared to be an English trader. She was quite small and, judging by the way she rode high in the water, was not overladen with cargo. The excitement grew and Bradford ordered the minion be fired in salute as the ship came round the sandy spit and into the bay. It was an amazing sight. The eyes of the whole community drank in the picture of the little ship as she rode into view. Desir6 wept and ran indoors, small red hands covering her face. Elder Brewster put out a firm hand and held John How- land's sleeve as he made a move to follow her. 'Let her be,' he said quietly. 'She is alone in her unbappi- ness here, and we must consider the wisdom of returning her to Leyden at some stage.' John looked at him silently and saw the sympathy in the pouched grey-blue eyes. He nodded and turned back to watch the little ship, as her anchors rattled down into the water. She was no larger than Speedwell had been. What a journey they must -have had in so light a craft. The town gates were flung open, and everyone streamed down the shore path as two boats were lowered and filled with distant figures, they came bob- bing over the shallow water towards thIt was a night of welcome and laughter, wonderment and 256 relief. A young woman passenger from the Fortune was brought across in the first boat in the early stages of labour. She gave birth to a healthy son the same night, a small consolation for the loss of her husband who had died on the voyage. She was the only female passenger. The first person Becky recognised as she ran down to await the arrival of the first boat, was Robert Cushman. He sat well forward in the bows of the long- boat and waved both his arms at the gathering crowd. There was a tow-headed boy beside him who leapt out as soon as the boat grounded on the pebbles. Grinning from ear to ear, he ran up the beach ahead of the slower disembarking passengers and flung himself into Mary Brewster's outstretched arms. 'Jonathan is here with us,' he said excitedly as he greeted her. 'Merciful heaven,' she said, hugging him and scanning the rest of the emerging passengers. 'You Tom Cushman, your dear father too, and our own son - all on this one wonderful day! The welcome was emotional. John Winslow, a stripling in his late teens, had arrived to join his two elder brothers. His fresh face was filled with the same eagerness and charm that singled Edward and Gilbert out from other men. He would be a benefit to the small community. The boats brought more passengers ashore. In spite of the excitement of their welcome, it was noted that most of them seemed poorly clad, and to have brought few possessions with them. With the exception of Mistress Martha Ford ' all the new arrivals were men. There were thirty-four of them all told, all come to stay, with the exception of Robert Cushman who, his earlier sea sickness cured long since, intended to return to England with Fortune and his own report of the settlement's situation for the com- pany shareholders, and the rest of the Leyden families. It was astonishing what these few survivors of the original party had achieved in the year they had been here. The place was well ordered, well defended, and obviously well husbanded. When he realised how competently the governor and his council were coping, he was content to sit back and watch as all the new- comers were quickly allocated lodgings in the village houses. Becky and Richard took in two brothers, Martin and Stephen Ridgeway. Disappointment and dismay followed quickly on the heels of the warm welcome. The following morning, when Cushman and Fortune's master met with the council, it was discovered that Fortune had put to sea in such baste following Mayflower's 17 257 return that they had brought none of the badly needed stores that had been requested in the bag of dispatches. To make the situation worse, the young men had indeed arrived virtually without clothing or possessions, so that they had to be given breeches and shirting out of the dwindling equipment store. Ile culprit was their agent, Thomas Weston. Still in a rage over what he considered the council's gross irresponsibility *in keeping Mayflower for so long and then sending her back with empty cargo holds, his letter was full of half written accu- sations, and the acid of his responsibility to the shareholders. 9 ... A quarter of the time you spend in discoursing, arguing and consulting would have done much more; but that is past etc. If you mean, bona fide, to perform the conditions agreed upon, do us the favour to copy them out fair and subscribe them with the principal of your names. And likewise give us an account as particularly as you can, how our monies were laid out ... ) The one good item of news Robert Cushman brought was that a charter bad been granted them by the Council for New England, to take the place of the charter which they had pre- viously held for Virginia. At least, they were now a legal body, and were satisfied with the grant of one hundred acres per head. As the town grew in size, so would the grant of land accordingly. It was sufficient to be going on with. Cushman was to return as soon as Fortune could be filled with their first shipment of goods, and letters could be written to repeat the countless questions that bad remained unanswered from their previous dispatches. Discussion among the villagers them- selves once more brought negative requests for a return pas- sage. Desir6, pressed to return to her family under Cushman's chaperonage, suddenly became stubborn and refused to leave. By now, Elder Brewster held more meaning for her than did Pastor Robinson. She became incoherent when some of the women tried to press her to go 'for her own good' - and it was thought wiser to leave her alone for the time being. Now that the first ship had come over to them, others would follow. Fortune lost no time in loading her small cargo and leaving them. She carried three qualities of cedar and pine clap board - as much as there was room for in the hold. The remaining cargo was beaver and otter skins, the quality of which had rarely been seen in England. Had they anticipated the arrival of a ship at this time of the year, more would have been bought and baled up ready for shipment. It had been decided that 258 three warehouses must be built down near the water front, wherein the timber, furs, and grain could be stored as it was acquired. While Fortune was still riding out in the bay, the first building was begun. A bare three weeks after her arrival, Fortune sailed away over the horizon's greying rim. The November days and nights were mild'er than the pre- vious year. Sitting round their kitchen fires, the villagers picked at the memories of icy grey seas and bitter scouring winds. True, it was getting colder with each day, and there had been one or two frosty nights recently, but the sun still gave them several hours of sunshine on most days, and there had only been one short sharp squall so far. It was no great hardship - especially with the extra hands - to set to with enthusiasm and prepare the fields for the first early sowing. Letters had gone back to London with Robert Cushman asking for wheat and rye, hops and peas, bales of cloth (for they were all becoming clothed in threadbare rags), and a variety of livestock to be sent. The absence of pigs and kine was daily becoming a greater inconvenience. Only one sow and three goats had survived the crossing, and their increase was too slow for significant use. As attention turned more and more to the land, it was realised just bow badly farm animals were needed, for they would be turned into the fields during the winter to graze and manure the soil, and then in the spring and summer they would multiply and provide meat for salting, and wool for spinning. Other problems were also beginning to become apparent. With thirty or more extra mouths to feed during the arid winter months ahead, the council's earlier worries over the lavishness of their Thanksgiving was quickly being justified. Food would not only be short by the spring, they would have to start a rigid form of rationing right away, in order to eke out flour and fat supplies until the arrival of stores from Europe. The new arrivals were young and, for the most paM of peasant stock, conservative in their ways, and stoutly Anglican in their upbringing. The English pilgrims had long ago be- come used to conforming to the ways of the Leyden group, and were surprised to discover the width of the gap they had unconsciously bridged in accepting and even agreeing with so many different and often disagreeable attitudes in the other's outlook. There had been few arguments amongst the com- rounity for some months, but now dissention spread again, and this time it was the Hopkins family who stoutly defended the 259 . I Leyden principles - the Hopkins and Aldens, the Gardenars, and even the Billingtons. In spite of this, the complaints and dissention increased. Sunday service was no service when it was conducted by a man unconsecrated in theology. Sunday was also a day of rest, as ordered by God himself - but the Leyden people turned to, whenever an emergency required it, or whenever the governor ordered it. Feast days were not celebrated~ prayers were almost a blasphemy in their attitude. An incident occurred shortly after Fortune departed which illustrated the division of priorities. An Indian appeared at the Brook Gate one noon. He was a stranger, dressed in full war regalia. He stood inside the gate and looked around him at the quiet village, peaceful under the chill sky. The house under construction at that time was close to the gate, and three men were working in the cold air, split- ting cedar for cladding beside its one completed wall. 'Sachem,' the Indian said to them with none of the usual courtesies of greeting. The men paused from their work. There was a bitter wind getting up, and they were already looking forward to breaking for their approaching midday meal. 'What do you want with him?' Peter Browne asked. They all had some knowledge of the Indian tongue by this time and were keenly enlisting the newcomers' interest in it also. The Indian stared at the burly man with stony eyes. 'You take me to him quick, Pequot. I have a message from my Sachem.' 'Trouble here, I think,' Browne said quietly to his two com- panions. They were both from Fortune, and had understood nothing that had been said. 'He's a stranger to me ... nasty looking too. Doesn't look as though he is on a peaceful mission with all that war paint on. Called me "destroyer" just now.' 'I will take you to him, Indian,' be said, signing the two men to move in on each side of the stranger. 'Remove your weapons and leave them by the gate.' The Indian stood like a rock. 'I will not part with my bow or my arrows,' he said with a trace of anger animating his flat voice. Browne shrugged. 'Then stay outside our village. It is agreed between our people and the Indian tribes that we shall bring no weapons into your villages, and you shall bring none into ours.' 260 'We have no agreement with you. We are the Narragansett! The sneer in the man' s voice was clear, even to the two men. They moved in close to him. Browne gave him a straight look from grey protuberant eyes, and then walked over to the gate. He put his hand on the heavy bar, which held the doors open. 'It doesn't matter who you are, Indian,' he said in his thick Essex accent. 'You are welcome here only on our conditions. If you are not prepared to abide by them, then off with you - and take your message with you.' The Indian hesitated. His eyes flickered from one man to another. Then be shrugged. He slowly took the quiver from his shoulder and laid it on the ground with his bow. He retained a bundle which was wrapped in a skin. ' 'What's that?' Browne asked as the man tucked it under -his arm. 'It is the message from my Sachem and goes only to yours, white man.' They took him up the hill. Browne walked in front and gestured him to follow. The two young men moved in behind the Indian. Will Bradford and Miles were in the common house, going though Miles's ordnance lists. They bad asked for another minion and a quantity of ammunition to be sent in the next ship, and Miles had just discovered that some of their powder had been damaged in the overnight rain. They were sitting at the council table as Browne knocked at the open door. Squanto and Stephen had that minute returned from the forest, and were walking up the hill behind the men. 'What do you want?' Squanto asked the Narragansett sus- piciously. 'I don't speak to you, scum lover,' he said. He pushed past the hesitant Browne, strode into the room, and over to the surprised governor. For a moment, be looked from Miles to Bradford and back, then deciding that the governor was indeed the Sachem be sought, he stretched out his arm and flung the bundle down on the table in front of the two men. Browne and his companions moved forward. Stephen followed. Squanto quietly closed the door and stood against it. The bundle fell open on the'table. Inside was a plain pine- bark quiver containing six arrows. They were wrapped in the dried skin of a rattlesnake. They stared at it, not comprehend- ing its meaning. 'What is this?' Bradford asked Squanto. The stocky Indian left the door and pushed past the warrior. 261 He stood looking down at the weapons and the dried in, the golden rushlight gleaming on his oiled arm muscles. 'It is a challenge to fight, sir,' he said, raising his coal black eyes and darting quick little glances from one curious face to another. Bradford frowned and turned to the silent messenger. 'Why does your king send us this?' he asked in his halting Algon- quin. 'We have no wish to be enemies of your people, or with any of our Indian neighbours.' The Indian, stirred. 'Are you so weak, you Wantaconog, that you will not accept the challenge of Canonicus,' he sneered, contempt in his voice. Bradford laughed. 'Weak we are not, Indian. If we engaged in war with your people, we would be fighting with superior weapons and more sophisticated strategy. You undoubtedly have more men than we do, but with our guns, we have more than we need to route your presumptuous Sachem, and to teach him and any others who plan to attack us that it is less than wise for the shrew to bite the bear's foot.' Miles had been tapping impatiently with his fingers as he listened to the governor's words. Now, he suddenly jumped up and disappeared among the powder barrels at the rear of the shadowed room. He returned almost immediately with a handful of powder and shot. 'Here, Indian,' he said, emptving the arrows from the quiver. He filled it with the ammunition, knotted the snakeskin around the open end to sea] it, and thrust it into the Indian's hands. 'Take that back to your Sachem with our compliments. It is our answer. If he looses one arrow at our people, we will use our fire and wreak a dreadful havoc upon the Narrangansett.' The man looked at the quiverful of acrid powder, his face empty. His hands shook slightly as they tightened round the white man's evil answer. He turned awav from, them without a word and Stephen opened the door to let bini out. , 'Beware, dog,' Squanto called after him in a deep, sing song voice. 'These men have more magic than all our people in this Whole land put together. They will wipe you from the face of the earth if you bring aggression to the walls of their village. Magic, dog. Remember the power of their magic.' The man darted a look of hatred and quick fear over his shoulder, and strode away from the common house, down the bill. He picked up his weapons at the gate and was quickly gone. The council was called together. It would certainly take the messenger four days or more to deliver their message. Within the fortnight then, they could expect an attack. There was no time to be lost. All men must be called to arms and forined into companies whose object would be to defend the village from the gate positions. At Miles's request, the timber team was trebled, and flankers were erected to make the gates more easily defendable. Wood and some of the warehouse stores were brought into the village and, as each day dawned, the tension grew as nothing happened, and no sinister army appeatcd on the hillsides around them. 'It is of little consequence if the Narragansett have taken fright,' Miles observed at the next council meeting. 'This is the first time that we have actually been threatened since we came here, and it is an excellent exercise for all of us. Puts us more on our guard, for we were becoming far too complacent. If nothing comes of this - and I don't think it will after all that mumbo jumbo of Squanto's parting shot - there will surely be other times when we are threatened, and we do well to bear that constantly in mind and plan for a state of readiness! Nothing did come of the Narragansett's threat. Word even- tuallv reached them through Squanto's wife at Nemasket that the Narragansett had been thoroughly alarmed by the white man's magic fireballs and had thrown them into the sea with supplications to Hobbamock to rid them of the evil of the white men. All the same, though this danger seemed to be past, Governor Bradford insisted that work on the defences continue seven days a week. Christmas Day was suddenly upon them. How different it was this year from the nightmare of their last one. The village was snug and daily becoming more secure from attack. They were, by now, on half rations, it was true - but those half rations were still more than they had had last year. However, there was an indignant outcry from the Fortune passengers when the governor directed that the first priority was the safety of the village and that work should continue on the gate defences throughout the day. Most of the men refused point blank to obey this edict. It was a specially sacred day, they protested, and they could not, in all conscience, toil upon it. Bradford bowed his head to the small deputation which con- fronted him after morning prayers. 'My friends, I fear you do not see eve to eve at all with our interpretation of either the Bible or the law,' be said regretfully. 'You are good men and 263 T we are grateful for your presence and help in the village . ~ - but you must realise that we are primarily a religious com- mUnity here, and we do take our lives seriously, with daily awareness of the Good God and his Blessed Will. We most sin- cerely believe that we do everything in His Name; that His Image is in every offering of our toil. Therefore, when word reaches us that there is danger for our families, born out of his goodness - in his own Image, then we fall to with every energy and offer the last ounce of our strength to him to do His Will and prepare to defend his loved ones from the heathen. We always try to do His Will whenever he directs us, whether it is on his day of rest or when starvation weakens our poor efforts.' He gazed at the young mutinous faces around him, reading the puzzlement and anger in their eyes. 'I would not wish you to- do other than your consciences allow. You may rest, there- fore, and commune with Him this day.' His deepset eyes twinkled under well-shaped brows. Remember to intercede and ask for Grace for those who see his words in another light, and who labour in His Name! The day was slashed by biting winds, and a sparkling frost had sugared the trees and ground into crystal hardness. The first gate at the top of the hill behind the gun platform had been removed, and the stockade extended round it in Miles's three- sided design. The Forest Gate on the field side of the village had been enlarged into a spear point, with the gate bars strengthened and the gate itself angled for restricted entry. The Brook Gate was in process of completion this Christmas day, and the Shore Gate had yet to be extended. Miles had decided on a further defensive refinement inside the village. At the centre crossroads of the gate paths, he bad ordered the building of a small redoubt from which point the whole village could be covered. It was a small high circular fence of spiked timber. It had one door and slits for the four petreroes which faced north, South, east and west, iron breech-loading cannon, which he mounted on swivels. From this vantage point, every angle of the village was defendable. Throughout Christmas day, twenty-six Pilgrim men worked upon the Brook Gate and the timber for the redoubt. Some time during the morning, they were surprised to hear sounds of laughter and unmistakable revelry within the village walls. They worked on, some at the stockade itself, others in the log- ging area. Four men toiled up and down the steep incline between the warehouse and the Shore Gate, transporting bales 264 of precious furs that they were slowly accumulating from their Indian neighbours. It gradually came to them that there was a great deal of jollity going on in the village. At first, they bad thought that it might be the younger children, but the shouts and laughter came from adult throats. When the men finally put down their tools and came in for their midday meal, they discovered the cause. The newcomers, full of the first summer's wine and Christmas goodwill, were playing games with the children up and down the street. Some were pitching the bar, competing against each other with loud cheers and boos, while others engaged in stool ball, and even the chilar&s hopscotch. 'What is this?' Bradford called, his voice echoing iliunder- ously up the steep bill between the houses. Men and children quickly stopped whatever they were engaged in, and stood awkwardly as the work team walked up the street towards them, the governor at their head. 'You were all given my permission to be exempted from the day's work for the purpose of assuaging your consciences and observing the birth of the Lord in prayerful pursuits! He looked at them one by one and slowly held out his hand. 'Pray, bring me your bats and balls, for it is against my conscience to see you play while others work. If you wish to keep this day sacred then ou shall do so in our own homes ' I Red faced, they came to him and handed over their play things. With an occasional muttered apology, they separated and returned to their houses, and no one thought to raise his lowered gaze and notice the twinkle in the governor's eyes, or the little smile beginning to twitch at the comers of his up- turned mouth. They were new to the fold, these energetic youngsters. It was natural that they should struggle against some of the community's disciplines, but they would learn in time to conform. They were all fine fellows for the most part. 3 V The year died and was reborn. Snow fell upon the village and froze one end of the Town Brook's upper pond. The children slipped and slid on it, and tobogganed down the north side of the fort hill with shrieks and giggles, their cheeks scarlet, blow- ing dragon breaths in the frosty air. The fact that Becky was again pregnant became apparent, although she and Richard said nothing of it to anyone. Neither was she alone. It was noticed with considerable satisfaction by the Council that, not only were Mistress Alden and Mistress Gardenar bearing 265 children, but now the new Mistress Winslow was in the same condition. More children would ensure the continuity of the community. More women on the next ship would further secure the town's future. They were delighted when Stephen told them that Elizabeth also was now with child. Sixteen twenty- two, they felt sure, would surely be an even more bountiful year than the last. The two Ridgeways quickly settled down with Richard and Becky. They were quiet youths in their late teens. Martin, the elder, was broad shouldered and square, rosy cheeked, with lank brown hair which he tied off his face with a black ribbon at the nape of the neck. Stephen, a year younger than his brother, was nearly a head taller. He had the same straight hair and pink cheeks, and was quickly to become Becky's devoted slave. At first, Richard laughed when he saw the boy leap to his feet at Becky's slightest command. He teased Stephen merci- lessly until he slowly recognised the boy's painful embarrass- ment. He remembered how difficult it had been to be six- teen, suddenly aware of new emotions, new situations. He I stopped the jocular baiting, and quickly earned both brothers' gratitude. It was a wonderful thing to realise that their house had at last become a happy, trouble free home. Richard, at twenty- five, was the oldest member of the household of six. Becky was almost twenty now, and just beginning to fill out with the expected presence. Colour had returned to her cheeks, her hair shone with rainbow lights, her dark eyes glowed with a happi- ness she was hardly able to trust. All she knew was that the two brothers enjoyed living with them, Humility and Henry adored them both - and she and Richard ... somehow they knew that the coming child would be no trouble this time. The bump was small and neat, and she was feeling none of the sickness and dragging weight that she had felt before, even at this early stage. Hobbamock still came to visit them whenever he was in the village. She had come to realise that his name had nothing to do with the night god, but that he was simply called by the same name. It took her a long time, but eventually she came to accept the steady friendliness and loyalty which the Indian always offered them. I Hobbamock, in turn, appeared slowly to become aware of Becky's singularity. One day he said to her, 'Mistress, the Nausets send their men here to Patuxet and always ask for word of you. They seek news of you for their Powwaw, 266 Chapanuk. What is it that he wants with you?' She shrugged her shoulders. They were alone in the kitchen. The children were piling logs outside the door. 'If he has been here, he may have seen me,' she said carelessly. It wasn't enough. 'Are you the Powwaw to your people?' he asked. 'You understand the uses of the growing things, just as our Powwaws do. You have hair like polished maple leaves as no other ever had that I have seen. You seem to know so much about the wild creatures in the woods ... it is not usual in a woman, mistress, even among the white women.' She smiled at his gentle probing. In the sensitive way that the Indian mind had, he was clearly aware of her separateness, and respected her the more for it, without question. She held out her hands to him. 'I have a special gift in these hands,' she said softly. 'It is a gift from our God and only given to very few. We onIv have one God, and he is all those things to our people that all your different gods are to yours. To each of us, our God gives a special gift when we are born, and we must use it to the greatest advantage. To Elder Brewster, he has given the power of oratory and the guidance of our souls. To the captain, he has given the stout heart of a brave warrior and a defender's mind, so that he may guard our lives and our property. To Richard, he has given a special skill with num- bers, and this will make him a very useful asset in the manage- ment of the community's affairs. To me he, gave the power of bealing some of those with certain sicknesses. I cannot help everyone - only those with ailments of the blood and heart. I never speak of this outside this house though, for there are those among us whose gifts have withered, and they would be quick to harm me if it were widely known.' She was speaking a language that he understood completely It was not necessary to discuss it further. He bowed his head and nodded. 'There was a message brought to me, mistress,'he said. 'Chapanuk, wishes you to know that he must speak with you for he must warn you of something which concerns only you.' He had no way of realising how she would react to his casual words. She jumped to her feet and banged both small fists on the table. The lamp shuddered. The basket of dried peas rolled away under the table, spilling its contents in a wide arc. 'No,' she s~outed at him. 'He cannot do it all over again. Tell him that if he harms a hair on this child's head this time, I will kill him outright.' She stood staring at him, the great brown eyes 267 filling and magnifying with the tears which came to her so easily these days. Hobbamock had jumped up off the bench in alarm at her sudden outburst. He stared at the girl who stood trembling against the kitchen table, small white hands curled into tight knuckled fists as though she would strike him. Fear smote him. 'Mistress,' be said hoarsely, backing away as the liquid eyes seemed to grow over him, making his head swim. 'Mistress, do not harm me for I have done you no harm. Cbapanuk wishes you every goodness. It is known among all our people. He has grave news to give you, but cannot reach you for fear of the harm your power may do him. He is an old man, mistress. He has let it be known that he has not long left among his people. He is waiting only to help you in some way.' He had been backing towards the door as he spoke, his voice husking through the stuffy kitchen in a hoarse whisper. Becky's shoulders suddenly drooped. She took her eyes off Hobbamock, and rubbed a hand across them as though to wipe away the visions she had been seeing there. 'I'm sorry. It's all right. You don't have to go away. Please come back to the fire. It's just that your precious Powwaw did me a terrible damage last year, and I can't forgive him. I dare not risk having any contact with him again while the child is growing in me. He might have the same disastrous effect upon this little one as he had upon the first! She sat down and put her head in her hands. Hobbamock took a hesitant step forward, away from the door, his fear dissolving in surprise. 'Was ... that time Chapanuk's doing?'His voice was filled with awe. She nodded. 'I can't tell you. It's a long story, but it involved your god Hobbamock, and that was why you gave me such a shock when you told us your name the first day that you came here. The day bef ore the whole nightmare started! He nodded slowly, remembering the events. 'You must have given him great displeasure,' he said, eyein g, her with new uncertainty. 'What sort of displeasure is it when I offer my own life for that of my husband? Chapanuk said that your evil Hobbamock wanted us gone from here, and would strike us all down if we didn't go. Well, he certainly made a start, and then defeated his own purpose for we became too weak to move. When Richard became ill, it was the last straw. I ordered Chapanuk to inter- cede ... commanded it, and offered my life as; the price for Richard's ... He caused my child to be born in his most evil 268 I image. That's what his twisted whim really wanted. A monster among us ... a terrible thing, that I had grown against my heart. It had to be destroyed as a devil is destroyed ... with a stake through its chest and burned in the flames of yew wood! Hobbarnock was silent, lost in thought. His eyes ranged over her - hooded, expressionless. Then he said, 'Mistress, you do the Nauset Powwaw an injustice. He was the instrument of Hobbarnock, who cannot be denied in his wishes. He was never the weapon. Your anger, justified though it may be, nearly brought him to his death. I can see now that it was you. He lives though. He lives, mistress, not for the good of his people now but simply for your good. Give him the dignity of com- pleting his given task, mistress ... and then let him go.' She didn't move. She sat hunched over the table in the grey afternoon halflight. The men were out in the forests, the chil- dren learning their lessons from Mistress Brewster after their home chores were done. The kitchen was full of silence and the scent of juniper wood. Ut me think,' she said from between her hands. He left her quietly. There were things that he had to speak to the governor about, and it would be an hour or more before all the men returned from their labours. He walked slowly up the bill to the common house and sat down on the cold ground outside its heavy oak door. There was much to think about, for him also. She was quiet, in a faraway mood, when the children re- turned and the men came in from the fields and woods, ravenous for their evening meal. Food was reaching the limit of their meagre rations, and she had been able to scrape up little more than a vegetable soup, thickened with barley, small corn cakes, and ale. Still, they were all in good humour and, when the meal was over, they quickly settled to a game of betting stones on the hard tamped earth floor. Richard came over to where Becky was piling the food plat- ters and skillets into a rush basket to wash in the river next morning. 'Are you feeling all right, love?' he asked, putting an arm round her thickening waist. She nodded. 'Just a little tired at the end of the day, that's all.' She smiled up at him and ran a finger lightly over the cleft in his chin. I 'Why not go to bed early, then? I can clear up the kitchen with Humility.' He gave her behind a little pat, then turned her round firmly as she opened her mouth to protest, and propelled 269 r r r e r y e e in n I y y 9 s k r e 11 h it her round the table and into the bedroom. 'Come on now. You should do as I say, just for once,' he said with heavy mock sternness. 'You have been so well these last weeks, and we don't want that to change, do we?' She pouted at him, but was glad to do his bidding. She closed the door behind him and took off her overdress. It was begin ning to get very tight, and her other everyday dress had long since worn through and been cut up and made into patch clothes for the children. She sat on the bed and slipped off he house moccasins. As she lay back into the soft pillows and closed her eyes, she knew that she had been waiting fo Chapanuk. She began timidly, aware of that great well of almost uncon- trollable resentment that still gnawed away inside her head She no longer consciously wanted to hurt him. It was his maste she hated. Why, oh why, did he have to be the pawn of thes three all-powerful monarchs, whose mischief seemed mor apparent than their capacity for good? There was no response to her initial searching. Her mind remained empty of him as it had been for a long while now She reached further - further still ... a small chuckle filled lie head, causing her heart to miss a beat. 'Where are you? Wh can't I feel you?' she demanded, suddenly sensing him as sh spoke, as he deepened into mind sight ... smiling at her tb same deep enigmatic smile, the strength and compassion of hi reaching out towards her. She went to him. 'I'm sorry, Chapa nuk ... I'm sorry! He held her close against his broad smooth chest. His ski smelt of warmth and pungent bear oil. It was a very physica feeling. A deep crooning sound rose from his throat. She la quietly against him, listening to the strange warbling notes wondering what their significance might be, knowing that the were a song of welcome for the loved one. The waverin rumble in his chest stopped and he held her away from him, hi liquid eyes warming her. 'Thank you for letting me come bac to you,' he said simply. His eyes moved over her, hungry fo every detail. 'Your beauty grows with every day, Winona! There was a breathless, husky edge to the deep voice.. H smiled into her eyes, sensing the anxiety in her. 'It will be a right,\this time. I give you my word ... a fine son for you hot to be proud of. A special son to make up for the past ... No, was not about that that I had to warn you.' His voice was in her head, and all she could feel now was the I ~ sweet, clean wash of relief which flooded through her. Seeing it so, he waited. 'There is another blight which will come to you ... not of my people's making, little heartbeat, but from your own people! She receded from him, puzzled. 'My people are better in their thoughts of me now,' she said. 'I can see it in their minds, in their body colours. Mistress Billington is the only one who still fears me, but she is alone and the others take little heed of her forked tongue these days.' He shook his head. 'It isn't now ... it's later. There will come a ship filled with white men of a bad hue. Trouble will come from them for you and your family, and I must urge you to leave here, to be gone before they arrive.' She stared, jolted almost back into the consciousness of her bedroom. 'Leave here? How could I leave? I am with child. I have my family here who will protect me. I wotild have no place to go, out there in the wilderness. How could I possibly think of leaving?' 'There is one who will shelter you always. This is wheic you must go, Winona. She is the squaw Sachem of the Massa- chusetts - a wonderful woman. Old, but very wise. She will harbour you, and make you welcome! 'Chapanuk - I can't leave Plymouth. It is a ridiculous thought. I could never manage it on my own, and Richard would certainly never countenance it.'Alarm shot small threads of nervous excitement through her. Little blobs' of running liquid trickled along her arms and shoulders, and fell like radiant raindrops from her fingers. 'My strength is going,' he said. 'It took so much energy to reach you. I will be leaving you and my people soon, Winona, but I cannot until I see you safely away from here and my soul is at peace.' He kissed her, eyes wide open, a lash apart from hers. She felt the warmth and hardness of them against her cheek, and pressed against him'. Her fear dissolved. While he was here, they would be able to cope with any,emergency. 'Thank you for bringing me back that time,' she whispered against the hard mouth. 'What is life if it is not lived on the edge of the shadow of death?' His voice faded. Then he was gone. Hobbamock had serious business with the Council. 'Sirs,' he said, looking very unsure of himself, and considerably embar- rassed. 'I bring a message from the great Powwaw of the Nauset. He is a man of amazing wisdom and power. He sees what we cannot see, and he sends you a warning out of his people's friendship for you.' The six men waited. They had become accustomed to the Indian love of oratory, and it was clear that Hobbamock was having some ditficulty in explaining the Powwaw's message. 'My message concerns us, sirs ... the Indians who come in friendship to your village, and whom you make most welcome. There is one among us who seeks to better himself in the eyes of his tribe, and who boasts among them and the neighbouring tribes of the magical power he now possesses through the gift of your confidence. Chapanuk sends you warning to be cautious of us all, sirs. He says that this one seeks the support of the Wampanoag by filling them with fear, so that they press gifts upon him for his favour, and in this way he is beginning to accumulate much wealth and prestige, The Narragansetts have contact with this man, sirs, and I fear that even the Massa- chusetts, even though they have been weakened more severely dm any of the tribes by the winter death, may still be swayed by his secret boasting, and may be persuaded to assist him to arm against Massasoit and yourselves.' It seemed an extraordinary message for Hobbamock to carry to them. An unknown Indian warning the strangers in his land against the mischief and plotting of his own people ... and sending such a message with one of the very Indians he was warning them against. 'Who is this man, Hobbamock?' the governor asked. 'Is it you? It is the Powwaw's punishment to you to make you bring this news to us yourself?' The Indian drew himself up to his full height and looked at the six men, with pride and shame in his eyes. 'No - it is not 1, sirs. My loyalty to Massasoit has been promised with my life. I feel the warmest friendship and concern for you and your people also, for I have met nothing but kindness and honesty in all my dealings with you. I cannot tell you the name of the man, sirs, for it is too dishonourable an admission to have to make - that one of my tribe, who is the closest to you in all things, should betray you in his heart and in his actions, for the sake of his private weakness and greed. You will know the man soon enough if you watch and listen like the trapper in the forest.' A problem immediately presented itself. It had long been agreed with the Massachusetts the previous September that in March of the next year, another trading party would visit them 272 to barter for more of the beautiful furs that had been brought back on the previous visit. The Council had met on this par- ticular evening to discuss the approaching date for the trip, and to decide who should make up the numbers this time. If there was to be a risk of attack while they were gone, then the whole trip would have to be cancelled for the time being. 'What would be the point of that?' Miles argued. 'We have more men now to defend the town than we did before Fortune arrived. Now is the time to go as we bad planned - before this mysterious boaster has time to move against us! Isaac Allerton agreed and so did the governor. Stephen Hopkins coughed apologetically. 'Would it not be wisest to identifv whoever is using us to his own ends, and get rid of him first, before we split ourselves up and create two weaker targets?' One or two agreed with this, but the vote went against them. It was decided that there were enough men and weapons for a good defence, either of the town or the shallop party. Later in the discussion, it was agreed that the traders, under Miles's command, should take both Squanto and Hobbamock as guides. They took their time in the careful selection of men and weapons, and it was nearing the end of March by the time they set off across the bay in the shallop. The two Ridgeways went on this expedition, encouraged by Richard, who envied their going. Squanto and Hobbamock, Standish, Allerton, Eaton, Cooke, the two Ridgeways, and four of the other young Fortune men. The shallop was still in sight, moving out of the bay at a fair pace before a stiff March wind, when there was a com- motion down by the brook Gate. The governor and his party were walking up the hill to the common house after seeing the expedition off. They turned quickly at the urgency of the shouting and burried down to where three men pressed round an Indian. They turned as Bradford approached. Blood covered one side of the man's face, dried and crusted over, like a black swarm of flies, from eve to chin. The Indian saw the governor's approach and came to him, falling on to one knee and spreading out his hands. 'Great, sir, an armv is at band ... Thev come to kill us all, and to kill all here at , Patuxet. Save my 6mily, sir, and those of my tribe! Bradford recognised the man. He was often to be seen in the town with a pole of racoon pelts for sale. He was surely a relation of Squanto's. 'Go back and bring your family here,' be said to the man. 'We cannot house the whole of your village but 273 f e s s f we will certainly offer protection to our friends and their families.' Mumbling his gratitude, the man turned away and ran out o the gate, leaping down through the brook field and into th trees until he disappeared from sight. The alarm drill had become familiar to them all by now Miles had schooled every man, woman, and child all through the winter months, so that their reflexes sprang to their given tasks as soon as the governor gave the word. The first move though, must be to fire a warning to the shallop while it was stil in the bay. The platform unit hurried off at the governor' bidding, and runners went'to bring in the field workers and their tools. The shallop went about and returned in all haste as soon a the cannon was fired. Miles could not resist a small thrill o satisfaction when he and his party hurried up the path and through the Shore Gate to discover that the stockade was already fully manned, guns were being primed, all workers were inside and accounted for, and the women and children busy battening down their homes. It had taken them nearly half an hour by his timepiece for them to reach the gate and, in that time, all had been made ready. 'Even if this is yet another false alarm,' he said to the governor cheerfully, 'I am extremely pleased to see how well our alarm routine is working.' They waited. The wind blew strongly during the day, chill- Ing the watchers on the Ranker platforms under their steel helmets and body armour. The Indian messenger failed to return with his family, and there was no sign of movement in the hills, no flicker of painted warriors sliding from tree to rock in the distant cover. 'If it was Squanto's man who gave the warning, then I'll not be surprised to find it's a false one,' Miles muttered to Edward Winslow as they paced the firing platform along the inside of the Brook Gate bulwark. The day slipped slowly by and tension eased. The women began to filter quietly back to their daily chores and to prepare food for their households. All these false alarms were probably very good for practising the town's de- fence and keeping everyone on their toes, but they certainly put hearts into mouths and made for concentrated supplication to the Lord. A keen watch was kept all night, but the land lay innocently round them, cold and sleek with rain. Miles commanded the guard change at dawn, and twenty 274 sleepy men retired thankfully to their homes and beds. The governor sent for Hobbamock. 'I am loath to disbelieve one of our good friend Squanto's own family,' he said, his leathery face creased with worry. 'It grieves my heart to have in it the doubt and growing distrust which your message has seeded there. However, I am at a loss to know what to do next.' Hobbamock waited, understanding the uncertainty be saw fighting with decision in the old-young face. 'It is I who am filled with shame at having to bring you such news, sir,'he said. 'Squanto is the tongue of eloquence between our two peoples, and the rest of us who come here are your true brothers. Yet it is in your own interests to be wary now, and to come to your own conclusions.' He waited while the governor turned something over in his mind. 'You have your wife visiting us at the moment, I understand.' 'Yes, sir. She came with some musquash pelts to trade.' 'Would it be possible for her to go quietly from here to Nemasket, so that she would not be noticed, and for her to find out just what is going on in the area, without attracting atten- tion to her questions?' The Indian nodded again, his eyes lighting up. 'That is good, sir, for she has a sister living there who is close to her, and will not speak against her. She can go, seeking more skins, if that is your wish.' Again they waited. Another day passed, and with the lengthening of the shadows, Hobbamock's wife returned and was admitted through the Brook Gate. There was no sign of any uprising or war party, she reported. The people of Nemasket and the surrounding villages went quietly about their business and spoke no word of war or resentment against the white settlers. Squanto's family had been playing a false game. The Council met and it was agreed that no word should be said to Squanto. They halved the gate guards, sent the field and timber teams back to. their work, and helped to set the trading party once more upon its way. The shallop sailed with the two Indians, and the village relaxed once more and settled down into its smooth daily routine. The shallop was away for six days. On its return with a rich cargo of furs of every variety and colour, the treachery was in the open. Squanto had been caught red-handed, filling the weakened and timid Massachusetts with tales of his magic powers. He could, he had told them, stir up war as easily as 275 lifting a finger ... with whoever he chose, and could as easily make peace again. The terrible winter death was his own weapon, controlled by him alone. He kept it hidden - buried in the ground in a sacred place, and could spread it where he wished. Justice had been Miles's prerogative, and he had taken especial pleasure in chastising the stocky Indian, then brought him back to Plymouth to be tried by the Council. It was their first court action in the king's name. It was a painful meeting. Squanto admitted that he had boasted about his control over the tribes and the white man. He admitted that he had sought to force the Wampanoag to his side so that he might tumble Massasoit from his throne, and rule in his place. The Council's anger was deep, and well justified. Of all men, that this one who had learned so much from and been so well treated by his white brothers, should now seek to betray them simply for his own betterment, sad- dened and offended them deeply. I 'There is more than simple justification for casting you from this town,' Bradford told him. 'Your lord, Massasoit, has been informed of your stealth and treachery, and you may be sure that beyond these walls, your life now has no value in all this land. You may stay on here, in the full knowledge that every man, woman, and child is aware of your duplicity, and that our love for you and respect for a man of honour is destroyed.' Squanto bowed his head and accepted his punishment. The death sentence which his tribe waited to mete out to him would have been a quicker, more merciful end than the daily death he suffered in the village. His shame was made more bitter still since he was frequently required to work side by side with Hobbamock, whose loyalty to Massasoit was un- shakable, and whose contempt for the suddenly ageing Indian was absolute. He seemed to shrivel as the weeks flew by and spring warmed the air. During April the early planting of rye and barley began to show well in the fields. Another fifty acres had been cleared during the winter months, and the ground was hoed and made ready for ploughing as soon as the sun thrust its first timid rays through the clouds. Food stocks were pathetically low. Flour was now at its last dregs and would shortly run out completely for the first time since their arrival. It would be sorely missed, and stomachs would go hungry to bed at night. It was a singular blessing that the winter had been 276 milder than the previous one and, weak though they were becoming, the men were soon back in the fields, preparing them for the planting. Eels began to appear in quantity once more in the Town Brook, and even fowl to the marshy fringes of Billington Lake. It was not long before Massasoit sent the expected message to Governor Bradford. 'Send me Squanto, for he is one of my subjects, and has betrayed his sachem and his people. He must be tried according to our customs and take his sentence. He is my subject whom, by our first articles of peace, you may not retain against my demand! The council received this message and, for the first time for many months, allowed their anger and personal feelings to clash over its treatment. Where Miles, Stephen and Isaac Allerton argued hotly for the terms of the treaty to be ful- filled to the letter, the governor demurred, and Brewster and Edward Winslow supported him. 'Send the little runt back for his just punishment,' Miles urged. He had never cared much for any of the Indians, least of all, the ingratiating Squanto. In his eyes, Squanto deserved all that was obviously coming to him, having betrayed too many trusts. The governor disagreed. 'The man is enduring far subtler punishment here in Plymouth,' he pointed out. 'Shame is the worst blow that you can deal an Indian, and every day of his life becomes heavier with it while he is here among us.' Their lovaltv to Massasoit was of primary importance, it was agreed. However, it was also an indisputable fact that Squanto had been an invaluable friend and ally to them during their first year. Without him, and without the negotiations which he had so skilfully manoeuvred with the other Indians, they would never have achieved the friendly relations they enjoyed with all the tribes who were their neiglibours. The meeting continued throughout the day. Tempers became frayed, and angry words were exchanged, and still nothing had been resolved when acry from the Shore Gate guards reached their cars. 'A sail ... a sail ... a ship is coming into the bay.' 277 CILATTER THREE April became a mild month. Mild and wet. Mud made the steep street a hazardous adventure and there were many messy mishaps before the sun came out in strength with the May buds and dried the saturated earth. At the beginning of May, Priscilla came to term and gave birth to the settlement's first daughter. Becky had not helped in the delivery of Priscilla's baby. Humility had been taken ill and was in her hanu-nock, fevered and fretful. She had had several such spells during the winter, and each time she had been left a little thinner, a shade more delicate. Richard and Becky were daily more concerned for her. Eventually, they went together to talk to Elder Brewster, feeling that the rigours of their existence were becoming too severe for the child, and that maybe she should return to her grandparents in Sbipton, Shropshire. Since he still felt that Desir6 should do the same, the elder promised to discuss the subject with her, in the hope that she would give way to his wishes if he intimated that it was for the sake of a sick child. Hunger -was another factor which gnawed at everyone, for they had been further stretched with the arrival in March of seven men in a shallop. What the lookouts had first thought to be a raiding Frenchman bad turned out to be the longboat of the Sparrow, a ship chartered by their own agent, Thomas Weston, to fish along the Maine coast and bring him back a fat profit. Sparrow had given passage to the seven men who had long been begging Weston to send them over to New England. They had, however, brought nothing with them in the way of stores; simply a packet of letters for the council, and private letters for some of the families. The men were made welcome and allocated lodgings among the houses, but the food situation became acute. There were not enough hens laying - and the eggs they laid were in- sufficient for the most basic community needs. The two sur- viving goats had both had kids, but the old ram had died the first winter. There was only one male kid, and he was growing 278 ~tunted and spindly, and would probably be no good for breed- ing purposes. The new arrivals had been directed by Weston to set up a salt pan on one of the bay islands. This quickly proved impossible, although they surveyed every one and also the possibilities of establishing a pan on one of the bay's protecting arms of hilly scrubland. Weston had also directed the seven men to set up a timber felling area north of Plymouth, so that they could ship loads of cedar back in Sparrow at the end of the fishing season. The forests at this point, however, offered little other than spruce. The letters which the men brought for the council contained only depressing news, which they decided to keep from the community for the time being. Most of them were from Weston, and in them he related how the shareholders of the company had begun to break up and withdraw from further responsibility. Weston was doing his best, he assured them, but the shareholders had lately refused to send Pastor Robinson and the rest of the Leyden group across to New Plymouth. The reason seemed to be because they still had no indication of the pilgrims' industry, and had received no merchandise to encourage greater faith in the settlement's potential. The council could scarcely hide its dismay and began to feel that something had gone seriously wrong. Fortune and her precious cargo should have been all t~e evidence the London merchants needed of the richness of the land, and the keenness of their industry. It would be some time before they had news that pirates had attacked Fortune, taken all the cargo and most of her own equipment, and cast the survivors loose without even their shirts. With the food situation daily becoming more acute, Edward Winslow was eventually sent off to search for the fishing fleet which operated to the north of Plymouth Bay, near the tribe of their first Indian friend, Samoset. They might have enough flour and dry stores to spare to tide them over until the harvesting began in July. After Edward had gone, taking Hobbamock with him, the governor took some of the field workers from their tasks and, at Miles's instigation, set them to converting the ordnance platform into a covered fort. It was becoming clearer each day that they had earned Masso- soit's grave displeasure by keeping Squanto in the village. He had sent envoy after envoy with orders to bring the Indian back 'With them, but Bradford hung on, in spite of his council's deeply divided feelings on the subject. He simply could not clear it with his conscience, he said over and over again, to send a man he considered to have been punished deeply enough, to his certain death. It did not occur to him that he had, by this continued refusal, broken his given word and, with it, the treaty with the Wampanoag. Neither did he realise that his sentence upon the Indian differed little from Massasoit's in- evitable one, for Squanto had begun to die the day he listened to the governor's decision to keep him in the village, steeped in his guilt. Edward returned with stores enough to help them through the coming weeks. He was full of the excitement he had felt at the sight of the great fishing fleet; thirty hardy vessels mak- ing rich hauls out of Damaris Cove. He had been made very welcome, and the ships' masters had all been more than sym- pathetic to Plymouth's near starving state, realising well enough that small fish and fowl were hardly the right diet for the kind of heavy physical work that a farming community exists by. In reply to his plea for large fish, they had gone one better and given him some strong nets and tackle, so that the community could, in their own time, catch the abundant and weighty fish that abounded out in the bay and in the Cape waters. With contributions of flour, cheeses, and dried peas from the ships, the village would be able to eke out their remaining rations until the harvest was finally in. June was a turbulent month, the sunshine muted and fre- quently marred by wind and squalls. Becky was restless, near her time and forever reaching out for Chapanuk's reassurance. With the passing weeks, she found herself reaching further and further as the old man's strength wavered and began to fail. He also seemed curiously unsettled, clinging on determinedly, after being shaken by two more small heart attacks. At those times, he was unable to go to her at all and she, when she could, stayed by him, willing him back to life with her own strength of body and mind. Resting more and more on her bed, she dwelt in her mind in the wigwam at his side, keeping the soul in the frail old body when it sought to release itself and leave her. She was filled with a terrible sorrow to see the crumpled, wasting body lying on its hard couch, like a gnarled piece of driftwood. Namas never left the old man's side, and Aspinet and the Nauset council came and went, and held court outside the dying Powwaw's wigwam. 280 There was a day when he seemed better. His breathing was easier and, though he kept his blind eyelids closed, be began to speak through half clenched teeth. 'It is soon now, Winona.' His voice was thin but clear. Namas came to his side and knelt by him. He took the old man's paper-dry hand. 'How are you, my father?' he asked quietly. Chapanuk seemed unaware of him. Hespoke again through stiff purple lips, as though be rambled in another kingdom already. 'You must promise to leave, Winona. I cannot go from here until I know that you will obey my wish.' She leant over and kissed his cold forehead, put her hand to the lined cheek. He was not even able to project words any more, only to receive them. Now speech was all that was left to him. 'How is it possible for me to do this?' she asked wretchedly. They went over and over this same conversation but his determination didn't waver for a moment. 'You know that I would refuse you nothing, as long as it was something I could do, but I can't bear my child in the wilderness. I can't abandon my family. The little girl is sick and needs me with her. I can't leave her. Richard is my husband, and you know that be would never allow me to go off like that.' 'Your child begins its journey now, as we are speaking,' Chapanuk said, sharply with a faint spark of his old impatience. 'Your husband has another journey to make when the ship comes. Give me your promise that you will leave then, for you have many friends as well as enemies. They will give you all the help you need.' 'Oh, stubborn old man. I don't know what to say.' She wept - and with her tears, the child within her began the familiar movements that had heralded the beginning of that other night- mare. 'Very well, I promise ... I will see what happens when the ship you speak of comes in. If I feel danger, I will try and get to this Squaw Sachem you speak of.' Namas gazed down at the old man's face. He had been able to make nothing of the meaningless jumble of muttered words he had been whispering from time to time, but now a look of relief and peace seemed to steal across the shrunken fea- tures. 'It is good! The words cam6 clearly from Chapanuk. There was scarcely a tremor in his voice. 'I can go from here in peace . do not grieve, Winona, for I will always be witA small sigh escaped him and he seemed to settle into his 281 furs. Silence filled the heavy air. The blood drummed in Namas's head, like waves pounding up a beach. The old man made a faint sound deep in his throat, and his grip loosened on the boy's band. 'Oh, don't go ... don't leave me,' Becky whispered. Something brushed past her, a light pressure touched her forehead - and she was suddenly aware of total emptiness. The boy wept. The sounds of his mourning filtered through the musty air and out to the waiting men and women. They looked at each other with the new grief of their knowledge and, lifting their heads, began the Song of the Dead. Over the village and darkening trees, the melancholy hymn floated, strengthening as voice after voice joined in the lament of the multitude. They had been waiting for this moment, but noth- ing could prepare them for the depth of sorrow which suddenly bowed them as one man. Namas crouched in the twilight, his bead on the still chest; his mind wandering through the days of his life under the special guidance and love that his grandfather had given him. He had not yet passed his initiation. That was to start this coming winter. - guidance,' he 'Oh Father, stay with me and give me your murmured into the soft leather that half covered the wasted body. A band pressed his shoulder, and he rose stiffly, knowing that Aspinet was beside him, sharing his grief. Out in the mellow twilight, fires were being lit round the funeral wigwam, and the villagers slowly gathered beyond the leaping orange glow, wailing their sorrow into the dying light. 'What did Chapanuk say in these times of sorrow?' the boy thought. 'What is life if it is not lived in the shadow of death.' Amos was born in the early hours of the morning, well before dawn. He arrived without fuss, after a short labour. Richard and Mary Brewster were Becky's only attendants. There had been none of the previous agony and dreadful suffering this time. She had guided his passage into the world in a kind of near painless daze. Several times, she bad thought that Chap- anuk was near her, but there was no sight or feel of him, no sudden awareness of his familiar, warm oiled presence. There had been one moment only - at the moment of Amos's birth - when she had thought his voice bad whispered to her. 282 'I am with you, Winona. I am with you now! But it must have been only the echo of her sorrow, for be was gone. Reality flooded through her with the first sound of the baby's thin rasping wail. She had opened her eyes to find Richard bending over her, his lean face grinning with relief and pride. Mary was at the other end of the room, wiping the child's small body with nut oil. 'A beautiful son, my Becky,' Richard said, kissing her damp forehead, relief and happiness clear in his eyes. 'No more nightmares, love. He's a fine, strong boy. The best I've seen.' And he was. He was small and long-limbed at birth, with a fuzz of dark bair and pink damask skin. His eyes were grey, but she knew that before long they would deepen to Richard's startling blue His fingers were long and mobile, the miniature nails perfect milky crescents. He was good. She was amazed at his patience. He rarely cried, except to call her. He liked the sound of his own voice and crooned and gurgled, but he never cried for food; never showed the impatient signs of normal infant hun- ger. He was so easy to love that the intensity of her new feeling for him almost hurt her physically. The children were awed and excited by Amos's arrival. He was clearly the nearest they had bad to a brother, and even little Humility seemed to perk up and look a little less fragile for a short time after his birth. Stephen and Martin made as much of the newcomer as if he had been their own. The village breathed an almost audible sigh of relief and prepared to be effusive in their good wishes for the young Gardenars. The shared moment of their pleasure was cut short by an even larger excitement that morning. A cry went up before the sun bad reached its zenith that two ships were turning into the mouth of the bay, but the charged,surge of excitement was quickly extinguished when the boatloads of passengers began to come ashore. No familiar faces here, just rough and hungry men - strangers all. They had come, their leader ex- plained to the council, at the instigation of Mr Thomas Weston and his brother. It was his intention to create a new colony to the north of Plymouth Bay among the Massachusetts. It seemed that Weston had acquired a land patent in the area. The spokesman, Richard Greene, who was Weston's brother- in-law, brought letters of explanation with him. ' . . . and the means you have there, which I hope will be of some purpose 283 by the trade of this spring, may be the help of some friends here, bear the charge of transporting those of Leyden. And when they are with you, I make no question, but by God's help you will be able to subsist of yourselves; but I shall leave you to your own discretion. . . ' The council read the letters from Weston in disbelief. How was it possible for this man whom they had trusted, not only as their agent but also as their friend, to send them first seven men to house and feed - and now no less than sixty? It was an even deeper shock to discover that the two small ships had not even brought one grain of the desperately needed stores that they had begged for in all the dispatches to London. One thing Weston's letters did, however, was to clear up the mystery of Fortune's silence. When she had finally reached her London dock, it was discovered that she had been attacked by French pirates off the English coast and towed into Ile de Dieu. In spite of the fact that she was then stripped of her cargo and weapons, and most of the passengers' and crew's effects, Cushman had managed to hold on to the dispatches, and also the ship's bills of lading and cargo manifests. When he eventually presented these to the shareholders, they finally realised just how valuable the lost cargo had been. They also realised that there were plenty more of these treasures for the asking, and were rent between continuing the plan to dissolve their interests altogether, and increasing their holding by a further investment of their money. Weston had, meanwhile, sold out his interest, and now intended striking out on his own. He had acquired the two little ships, and he and his brother had scoured the London taverns and coffee houses for young men, willing and able to adventure their lives and establish his trading colony in Massa- chusetts Bay. The motley assortment who responded to Weston's fairy- tale of easy riches and abundant living, now poured off Charity and her tiny sister ship, Swan. They gathered on the beach, looking about them, and then began to struggle up the path to the Shore Gate. They pushed past the gate guards who hesitated to close the gate on these abrasive strangers. They were, after all, Englishmen, even if it was clear that they were also rough-and-ready fellows. The memory of their own hazar- dous voyage still stayed sharply in their memories. Richard came home late that night. There had been a meet- mg down on the shore, since the Common House was not large enough to contain the community and sixty extra men. 'It's really too much,' be exploded, slamming the kitchen door behind him and coming straight through to the bedroom. Becky lay comfortably in the wide bed with little Amos asleep in the crook of her arm. She was feeling well and contented, listening to the children being given their evening meal by the two Ridgeways. 'That man Weston will choke this colony to death, the way he is acting. First, he sends us seven more mouths to feed out of the blue ' and now no less than sixty ruffians, none of whom have a place in a community of this sort.' 'Why have they come?' Becky asked. Through the euphoria of her new happiness, Chapanuk's warning words suddenly loomed large. 'It's something to do with Weston having been granted a land patent by the New England Company for an area close to where we landed when we went on our first trading expedi- tion.' He sat frowning on the side of the bed, trying to remem- ber the lie of the land. 'Apparently it's at the south end of the great bay that we found. From the look of those guttersnipes, that won't please Obbatinewat, for that is his territory. What is so unforgivable, Becky . . . what I find impossible to forgive that man for, is that he requests that they stay here while Charity goes on down to Jamestown with dispatches and to pick up cargo from there. What will these people live on for the summer months? What will we all live on until the harvest is brought in? My God, we've been on half rations for over eight months as it is, with all these extra mouths to feed pouring in on us. Do you know how many extra there are here since Fortune came over? One hundred and three, as from today . . . and we of the first con- tingent are only fifty-three. Our crops are only planted for the consumption of that first number - and here we are, almost four months short of the Indian corn harvest with three times the expected population to cope with.' He removed his working jacket and heavy shoes. The shoes had been repaired several times, and the uppers were coming awav from the worn soles. He sat, examining them moodily, pulling the loose heel of one shoe away from its leather sole. Becky waited, watching the expressions flit across his mobile face. Amos heaved a small, milk-sated sigh in his sleep. 'I have been having a talk with Stephen,' Richard said 285 slowly, flicking a quick blue rapier look in her direction. 'It is our intention to take passage on Charity and go with her down to Jamestown to get more supplies for the village. Also Stephen wishes to oversee his property there ... and I shall look into the possibilities of employment, and whether they have now filled the post I was going to take up.' She stared at him across the blue brocade quilt, brown eyes wide. 'Richard, we couldn't desert them now,' she whispered, a small flicker of hope rising in her. 'Why not?' His face was grim, the lines round his mouth deeply etched. 'It would make three less mouths to feed, wouldn't it? I know that we've all managed very well here together, and that there's been an almost miraculous spirit up to now, but I'm not doing what I have been trained for, and I want more out of life, Becks, than just living in this state of semi-starvation from one year's end to another. However hard we work at this end, the stockholders in London think that we are only interested in ourselves and our families. Why, Weston actually said as much in one of his dispatches to the governor. They send us no supplies, though there have now been four ships in here since we arrived ... four ships and not a single sack of flour or a bale of cloth ... only more and more mouths. I tell you, it's becoming an impossible situation.' He leaned over, put an arm round her shoulders, and stared down into the miniature face of his sleeping son. 'I wouldn't consider going down to Jamestown unless I was confident that you two would be well looked after,'he said softly. 'Richard, Amos and I must come with you,' Becky said suddenly. The urgency in her voice jolted him. 'It can't be, love. It would hamper all our activities, and cost more than our small funds could stand to put you both into lodgings while Stephen and I go about our business.' 'Then don't go, Richard! Her voice had increased its sense of urgency, pleading with him with almost a note of panic in it. He looked down at her, loving and puzzled. 'What's troubling you? You are not usually the faint-hearted type. Surely, you can't be afraid to look after the house on your own for a couple of months or so - can you~' She shook her head and buried it in his shoulder. 'It's just that ... well, you know how I seem to know things somwell, I just know that something will go wrong here for me 286 if you go . . . ' Her voice trailed away. It all sounded so weak. Like the lame excuses of a silly, selfish woman. She sighed and drew away from him, and he made no reply, just sat at her side, looking down at her, eyes baffled. 'Don't worry then, Richard.' Her voice had lost its lilting inflexion. She could hear the two brothers in the kitchen, arguing good-naturedly with each other over some of the comments they had overheard from the new arrivals. Humility had crept in and curled up on the big bed by her feet. She had gone to sleep instantly. Henry had gone out to collect firewood from the village stock pile. No more was said then, but Richard tried to return to the subject when he came to bed. Becky, knowing that he had long since made up his mind to go, saw no point in saying another word. She turned her face to the wall. There suddenly seemed to be too many things looming over them that needed thinking out. The burial of Chapanuk was delayed for three days to enable Massasoit to be present, and as many of the village sachems of the Wampanoag as were able to make the visit. Namas, alone, had prepared the old man for his last journey, in the empty gloom of the wigwam. He had taken his time, laying him out in his travelling cloak of woven grasses lined with grey wolf fur. He had dressed the body in fine soft leather breech cloth, tooled with intricate designs and lavishly coloured. He hung ropes of bright wampum shells about his neck, wrists and ankles. When all was ready, it was time for the long pro- cession of mourners to come and make their farewells. Aspinet and his wives and family came first; then the elders of the village, and the other village dignitaries from visiting tribes; then the community of Nauset, and finally all others who wished to pay their last respects. They took their time, filing slowly through the wigwam past the old man lying quietly on his fur-clad couch. The mourners wailed outside the entrance, and a hundred voices opened their throats and added their own grief to the summer birds'liquid fluting. Outside the wigwam, Namas began to dig the grave. It took him the best part of a day, for it wasdeep and must be specially prepared for a personage of such importance. He dug, his mind wandering through the ceaseless wailing of the village mour- ncrs and the gathering visitors. They came to make their 287 288 obeisances, and then bung back as the grave took shape, watch- ing his work and sending up an endless lament of sorrow for their wise and venerated Powwaw. He dug deep, and fashioned a step so that the old man might be buried in a sitting position, for this was their custom. He lined the bole with thin cedar panels and stoutly woven reed mats. He placed a fine beaver pelt upon the seat, and arranged armfuls of dry twigs in a series of miniature bonfires all round the grave. Afterwards, he cleaned himself in the river, painted his face black like those of the other mourners, with a solution of ash and char- coal mixed with bear grease, and took his place again at Cbapanuk's side to wait the coming of Massasoit. The great ruler lost no time. He arrived with all baste from the other side of his kingdom, where he had been investigating rumours of Wampanoag unrest. He stood looking down at the benign face of his old friend and seer. What strange gifts this man had possessed, he would never understand, he thought, bowing his head over the empty cbest. His all-seeing blindness had gone with him to the southwest, and the Algonquain peoples were the poorer for his going. He stepped back and left the wigwam to take his place beside the open grave. Aspinet and Namas carried the old man's frail body out into the heavy air and laid him tenderly in his earthen seat. They put many gifts for the journey on his lap and at his feet. A dagger, bow and quiverful of arrows. A spear cut short for an old man's easy handling, pots of food and drink, wampum shells for trading - all that he would need to sustain him on his long journey. The mourners pressed round the grave, each with his farewell gift; ornaments from the wealthy, flowers from the poor. When all was complete, the ceremony for the beating out of evil spirits began. The crowd fell to its knees as the chanting started. They struck the hard earth with the flat of their palms while ten warrior dancers circled the grave, bending and stretching, raising their jingling arms to invoke the attention of Mani- bozho, Kytan, and Hobbamock to the journey of their servant, Chapanuk. Their feet drummed against the dry ground like the earth's heartbeat ' their stamping in perfect time with those who beat with their hands. Namas covered the bowed head with thick layers of matting; five, six ... seven thicknesses, for Chapanuk was of nearly as kingly in stature as their all- powerful ruler himself. Massasoit presented the final grave mat, a beautiful thing woven by one of his wives and interlaced with red and vellow dyed grasses in a pattern of lightning. The mourning voices rose against the drumming hands and feet to a heightening ecstasy for the joyous passage of the old man's soul. Namas knelt. He filled his cupped hands with the fine dry soil that he had scooped out from the grave. He bent his fore- head over it and murmured his own words of love and fare- well. Leaning over the narrow opening, he let the soil drain slowly through his fingers on to the matting. The singing stopped. The slowly circling dancers stopped. Tbe drumming of bands and feet stopped. The earth stood still, the evening hanging breathless, sus- pended, the darkening air a vacuum of a thousand indrawn breaths. Slowly, Namas scooped the earth up in both bands and pressed it down into the grave. He patted and smoothed, piled and beat the earth until the hole was filled and had risen in a small mound. There was no sound about him and, if there had been, he would not have been aware of it. His whole concen- tration was on what he was doing, sending his beloved grand- father on his last long journey. He filled his mind with memory pictures as he worked and wept in the depths of his heart. He covered the grave with the old fur cape that Chapanuk bad worn in winter for the daily obeisance to Kytan, then he stood stiffly. A boy with a burning branch came forward, and he took it from the outstretched band and lit each of the small fires around the grave. Yellow light flared. A keening cry rose from a thousand tbroats and the warriors began to dance once more, to leap and twirl in the pulsing orange glow of the funeral fires. Their whirling shadows leapt from the darkness like monstrous bats, and the watchers bowed their heads, for their gods were among them - come to add their farewells to that of their subjects. Feet beat again upon the earth, and hearts were filled with fear in the Presence. As the little fires died, the voices sank, and the dancers eased their wild pace until, with the last of the glowing embers, there remained only a soft sobbing breath and nine men standing, beads bowed about the ember-red mound. One by one the mourners turned away. Melted into the darkness. The warrior dancers remained with Namas; sentinels until Kytan took up the guard of mourning. Massa- soit, Aspinet, Namas and Iyanough to the north, south, east 289 and west - each lost in the trance of his own prayers, awaiting the coming of dawn and the burning of the wigwam. Chapanuk was gone. Charity emptied her cargo of passengers and prepared to sail on down to Jamestown with all haste. The new arrivals were housed wherever they could find a place to sleep, for very few were made welcome in the houses which were already overfilled with those who had come before. Richard Greene, Weston's brother-in-law, was given lodgings with Isaac Allerton for, at least, he and three or four others seemed well-disposed and respectable. The rest, clearly accustomed to foraging for them- selves in any case, were obliged to do so, for food was fast running low, and none of the women would take it from their children's mouth's to feed such persons. The situation did noth- ing to cement new friendships. John Howland strengthened his protection of Desir6 by bringing three of the Fortune passengers into the Carver house, including Martha Ford and her new baby. Although this clearly eased the tension for Desir6 and her gratitude was obvious, she still kept to the house, refusing to leave it while the village was teeming with strangers. When she was not occupying her- self with household chores, she shut herself in the room which she now shared with Mistress Ford and the baby. Here, she liked to sit and pray, or simply gaze into the shadows by the hour. She was more and more to be discovered in this trance- like state, withdrawn - unheeding, head bowed over her thin chest, hands clasped in her lap. John, finally losing all hope of reaching her, decided that she would have to return to Leyden. She was of little use to the community here, and wouid be better off where her problem could be more easily coped with. He began to notice Elizabeth Tilley's shy interest in him. Stephen and Richard sailed with Charity. Becky, watching the little ship nodding her way out of the bay on a sparkling noon tide, had a feeling of finality as she waved her farewells. Their parting had had an extra ring of sadness. They had both felt it, and Richard, full of reassurances, had hugged her fiercely to him, as though he regretted after all, having to leave her behind. 'Stephen and Mar-tin will take good care of you,' he said to her. 'The Aldens will keep an eye on you also, I know - and the Winslows are only next door, in case of trouble. If you feel 290 that this is not enough at any time, have a talk with the elder He will arrange for your protection with the council. Thes fellows may be rough, but we would not be alive now if we wer not all strong and hardy - more so than they, since they ar( depleted by the voyage, and are not likely to get much fitte with the meagre rations we have to offer them.' He had gone. The little ship, only half Mayflower's size rounded the sandy headland with its thin crown of bushes and turning southeast, was lost from sight. Becky turned away from the beach, cradling the sleeping Amos in her arms, and walked slowly up the shore path to the village, Elizabeth and the children close behind her. Elizabeth also seemed a little appre hensive for once but, six months gone with child and with the two Edwards and Giles in the house with her and Constanta she felt secure enough. Captain Standish had offered * to j oin the household until Stephen's return, and that might be a very good thing. The little soldier, though small of stature, had none the less already made his authority clear, and seemed grudgingly respected among the unruly element of the Charity's passengers. The days were warming up again, and it was not much hardship to sleep out in the fields or under the stockade wall at night. It soon became clear that quite a number of the men were fevered and sick. Those who were able, were put to work felling timber to make three dormitory houses which would later be well used as storage barns. There were muttered ob- jections to this direction' until the governor sternly spelt out the men's situation to them. 'Everyone of us'in this village works for his bread and his livelihood,' he told them the morning after Charity had gone. 'Had we not set to with a will, but bung about as you seem more inclined to do, then we would not be alive today to give you all some sort of protection here in Plymouth. If you are only prepared to follow your own inclinations and not contri- bute to the needs of the community as a whole, then you may go from this place and find your own sanctuary, even as we bad to, in the depths of winter. We require that each fit man does a full day's work towards the building of quarters for all of you. There are some among you who are sick, and we will not hesitate to succour those in need. But, for the rest of you, you have come here to us unheralded, with few goods and chattels; therefore, you must fend for yourselves when we cannot feed You, until fresh stores arrive, and you are able to move on 29 from here to your own plantation. Learn while you are with us ... for you will need all the goodwill and ingenuity you see about you in order to survive the coming winter without help! They shifted and murmured sullenly, finding their hosts too pompous and Bible-ridden by half. They were proper little ants in their passion for work and prayer, too self-sufficient - unwilling hosts all. The trouble began the first Sabbath after Charity had sailed. The pilgrim community had become accustomed to the forma- lised procession into which they had formed themselves long before the stockade had come into being, to make the slow march up the hill to the Common House where the elder held their services. They gathered as usual on the morning of the Sabbath, as they had done since their first winter, the men fully armed with muskets or swords, outside the governor's house just below the central redoubt. The men, cloaked and beads covered, formed into ranks of three while young Edward Doty rolled the call to prayer on his drum. At the head of their procession, their lieutenant had placed himself and, as the governor ap- peared at his door with Elder Brewster and Captain Standish, the troop moved off. The three men walked behind the armed unit and, behind them again, the women and children followed with a rearguard to protect their backs. The new arrivals watched this ceremony in amazement. Some, who had been accustomed to attending church, followed the slow procession, but for the most part, the men gathered in groups to await the emergence of the community from the Common House, and to see what they would be expected to fall in with next. The pilgrims' solemnity did little to impress them, for it all seemed a ridiculous performance for a small settlement of non-military Bible tbumpers. Eyes slid thought- fully to the empty houses, to the little gardens with their small patches of young sprouting vegetables ... When prayers were over and the villagers bad dispersed quietly to their homes, it was quickly discovered that five of the houses had been entered, and clothing and food stolen. The Winslows' whole larder had been cleared, Elder Brewster's bread and cheese had vanished, blankets had disappeared from the Hopkins's house, and the Billingtons' garden had been ransacked. Richard Greene, leader of the new settlement, being sick and asleep in his bed in the Allerton house at the time, the 292 men's self-appointed spokesman, John Sanders, was summoned to the council and asked to explain himself. He was a large man, a ropernaker by trade, with immense power in his great shoulders so that they seemed to give him a hunched, lowering look. His hair was greasy and thin, eyes small, darting - deepset. His broad forehead overhung the rest of his face like a cliff, flattening the pugilist's nose and dimin- ishing his already small, down-turned mouth. He slouched before the council table, hands on hips, for they had not in- vited him to sit. He looked at the five angry faces on the other side of the table, and his lip curled in one downward turning corner. 'Well, what d'vou expect from them?' He answered their questions. He had a curiously high-pitched voice. 'When men be hungry and homeless, they take their food where they find it. You people be too disciplined for the likes of these men. Why, the very sight of you creeping up the hill to your prayers is enough to set any man of the streets to thieving. You should guard yourselves and your property a sight better, for you have much that you deny them, for all your sanctimonious preaching about helping each other. As far as we are concerned, you offer us less than you give those two dogs of yours . . . ' Brewster leaned across the table. 'That is simply because we have so little here in our store that what there is must be care- fully rationed and given first to our children and then to our breadwinners,' he said quickly. Sanders eyed him with baleful, colourless eyes. The man was elderly to be so far from church or civilisation. The hardships he had surmounted had left their mark, for his hair was streaked with silver and his small beard was fast becoming grizzled. The lined face was hard, the jaw jutting beneath its neat covering. His eyes were deep-set and they regarded the burly Sanders with a strong but gentle blue-grey gaze. 'Try me.' The look challenged. 'You will get no quarter here.' 'Why should we work when we'll have more than enough of that when we get to this Wessergusset place?' Sanders growled, ignoring the elder and that look of dangerous calm in the old man's eyes. 'You expect us to slave away all day, making buildings for your own use, but still you scarcely feed us and don't pay us a penny for our labours. Why should we be de- tailed off into the fields and the forests? We've had a long voyage, and many of us are still sick from it, so how will we get our strength back to cope with our own problems later, if 293 we have to sweat our days away in your service? 'That's enough, Sanders.' Bradford cut across the man's rough voice. He stood up. His usually mild and humorous face looked drawn and pale in the shadowed half light of the room. No rush lamps had been left on after the service, and only the soft filtered sunshine streaming in through the six small win- dows gave them light. The two men eyed each other. Sanders straightened his back and waited. 'I have said this before to all of you when you first arrived. There are obviously many among you who were not prepared to heed my words, so I will repeat them for you again. We have the same laws here in Plymouth as King James and his government have laid down for England. We intend to exer- cise them here in the same way. Any man found thieving or committing a felony of any kind will find himself before this council to be judged and punished. If you think that I am not serious about this, you will quickly discover your error. We may have been weakened by our continuing lack of food this past winter but then, you and your men are weakened also. We have said that we will care for your sick as devotedly as we care for our own. We will also welcome into our houses any man who shows himself worthy of another's honest friend- ship and hospitality. But while that hospitality is rewarded with criminal acts, you can only expect to be treated accordingly. If all this is not to your liking, then go. Leave us in peace, and make your own arrangements for living if you can.' He paused, his eyes taking in the man's bored, unrepentant face. 'Leave us now,' he said with a small sigh. 'There is noth- ing more to be added, except that I want all stolen articles returned within the hour, and the guilty men brought up here to the Common House. You will see how we will deal with them. If you fail to do this, the whole lot of you will be driven out at gun point! It was only a few days later that Constanta was accosted and came running home with part of her dress ripped at the neck. No great damage had been done except to give her a fright, for though the man had tried to put a hand to her, he had not followed when she had twisted out of his grasp and run from him. The incident simply served to tighten the vigilance of the men. of the community, and the ten women were accompanied wherever they went. The young crops grew and began to show that, in spite of 294 the fifty extra acres, their weakness of body in attending to the continual weeding and earthing-up which the Indian com required, had already resulted in the showing of a poor crop. As the early summer days flowed warmly by and the fields changed colour and turned from green to gold, the time came for bay making' and the men went out with their scythes to cut the rushes and marsh grasses to stack them into ton ricks for drying. Humility was up and about again in July, but was still unable to join with the other children in the stooking and daily hunt for kindling. A pallor had descended upon her small oval face and was heightened by an unnatural flush which highlit her small cheekbones. She was aware that she was to be sent back to her grandparents by the next available ship, and a curious apathy had fallen upon her. She hovered close to Becky at all times and seemed content enough to be part of her shadow. Her cough remained - eased by broths and linctus from Becky's medicine chest - but never shaken off. When Richard set out with Stephen for Jamestown, she moved into the inner bedroom with Becky and little Amos, and Henry brought in his hammock and slung it from books at the far end of the room. The kitchen was left to the two Ridgeways. This year of 1622 felt very different from the previous summer, when they had watched the small rich crop growing golden and high, and knew that soon they would have more than enough for all their needs. That last summer already seemed more than a scant year away. Everyone was beginning visibly to wilt, both from the deepening beat and from their continual hunger - yet there was still no real sickness, except among the newcomers. Of the sixty men who arrived in June, three had died by the end of July, and twenty-two were sick in their beds. As an early August moon brightened the village street and bighlit the pacing figures of the guards on the bastion cat- walks, Becky sat on her bed and thumbed through her herbal. Humility lay behind her in the wide bed, restless and wheezing in her sleep. Amos, sucking a miniature finger in his basket, slept, and grew. Henry, one small fist firmly grasping an old clay pipe of Richard's, lay on his back, mouth open, snoring gently. The window was open, for the night was sultry and the room stuffy. All was quiet. 295 I She sat in her undershift, shoulders bare. It was a relief to be able to take off the heavy overdress, stiff now with her own perspiration and the infrequency of her careful washing. She had brushed her hair and let it fall about her shoulders in a shining titian waterfall as Richard loved most to see it; as Chapanuk had so often willed her to brush it. With both of them gone, it still gave her a sense of lonely satisfaction to continue the habits which had given them both so much plea- sure. She was still too thin, Chapanuk would have been the first to observe. All the same, her breasts were full, for she was feeding Amos and would be for many months yet. In contrast to their high fullness, he narrow shoulders and slight waist gave her a frail, almost wispy look. The face beneath the curtain of gleaming hair had lost its round-cheeked innocence. The translucent creamy skin was stretched too tightly over her small-boned features, filling the sockets of her eyes with soft shadows and hollowing fine lines from cheekbone to chin. The great brown 'eyes seemed to dominate her face even more than they had done previously. With her twentieth birthday not long past, she had the look of a woman more mature, more calm for her years, more sculptured by sorrow than by joy. She bent over the old book, scanning its pages for a prescrip~ tion that might offer Humility a little more help than her other mixes. Reading, she unbuttoned the front of her shift and slipped her shoulders out of the bodice. As she read, she became aware of the first flicker of a presence, and her attention snapped from the written pages and explored the essence of the feeling. She stayed motionless, sitting on the edge of the bed her eyes still lowered to the book, sight unfocused. The presence shifted and multiplied. 'Chapanuk?' She searched within and about her with a sudden heart jolt of hope. There had not been a day when she bad not searched for the sound of his voice, the feel of his presence. It gradually dawned upon her that this was a differ- ent kind of sensation altogether. There was a collective channel- ling of awareness, as though a host of eyes observed her - gloated over her. She suddenly felt a wave of lasciviousness, and the shock of it cut through her, jerked her head up from the book, and turned it over her shoulder to where the five men jostled with each other for room in the shadows outside the window. Their faces filled the aperture in a blur of moon- washed, perspiring glitter. She stared at them. 296 They were pressed together like pigs shoving each other at the trough. Mesmerised, they stared back at the girl's milky bare shoulders, her shining chestnut hair, the enormous mag- netism of the huge fathomless eyes. Now, as she shifted her body round to face them, they slavered at the beauty of her. She slowly rose to her feet as her eyes took in each detail of their damp, loose faces. The men became transfixed. She had taken off her overshift, and now wore her underskirt only. Her burnished hair had been brushed until it shone in a heavy curtain of molten fire about her shoulders. It didn't quite reach the full, rose-tipped breasts. The rush light cast a golden glow about her. The velvet eyes held them fast, seemed to grow like great pools of black mud. They were transfixed - and a feeling of terror suddenly shot through them. They tried to step back from the window - and were held. Their limbs felt like melted ice, and they looked into eyes that held pure hatred and contempt - washed in it, wallowed in their feelings of rising excitement as their bodies responded to the terrible intimacy. She held them. No one moved. The soft light played caress- ingly over her in wavering depth as the candle guttered and swayed, its Wax spent. The great eyes froze them, and they bung squashed together at the window, squirming as the un- willing excitement in their bodies leapt to its climax and spilled itself from them, and the fear in them struggled to tear them- selves from that place. The candle spluttered - and darting its last tongues of light into the room's dark shadows, surged - and went out. For a second, the eyes remained lit within the room, red glowing coals cauterising their souls; then they were suddenly released and, falling over each other in the darkness, they turned from the empty window and fled. The stories began almost at once. Two more of the new- comers died - and, from nowhere, came the rumour that it was at the hands of Mistress Gardenar. The five men made much of their story, embellishing the details with every telling. They crossed themselves when they saw her, and others took to fol- lowing their example. 'What on earth have you been doing to the ruffians?' Pris- cilla asked when they walked together down to the brook with their washing baskets. Becky laughed softly. 'I caught five of them peering in through ray window one evening when I was going to bed,' she 297 said. 'I stared at them as hard as I could, and then emptied a pot of the children's slops out over them. It seems to have bad the desired effect.' They laughed together as a man scuttled away from them. It would certainly appear that all the Charity men seemed to have a decided aversion these days to the comely Mistress Gardenar. Becky, however, grew much more disturbed than she chose to admit, as she became aware that something was forming within the village itself. Under the warmth of friendship, a faint wave of growing antipathy seemed slowly to be gathering again. Elder Brewster even appeared to have become aware of it also, for be came to the house one morning on the pretext of asking after Humility's health. 'I am a little concerned for you, my child,' he said. He sat in Richard's highbacked chair and the heat of the day glistened in diamonds on his freckled forehead. She moved away from the hearth where she had been warm- ing water to make his favourite mint tea. It had been a great joy to discover wild mint in such profusion in the hills. 'I'm quite well, thank you, sir,' she said, dimpling at him as she put the bitter-sweet infusion before him. He sat quietly, holding the mug in both bands and blowing gently at its curling stearn. Then he put it down on the table. 'It wasn't really your health that I was referring to,' he said. His voice was resonant, melodious. It had a depth and warmth that caused his listeners to sit forward, to listen. If it were a shade deeper still, she thought, it would be very like Chapanuk's. 'It is not difficult to bear the strange things that these rough men from Charity have been spreading among themselves lately. How they came to invent such things I cannot say, my dear, and I'm sure that you are no wiser than I? The question was a statement. She shook her head and gazed across the table at him with wide, puzzled eyes. 'I certainly have no wish to alarm you, child, but several times in the last few days, it has been reported to me that there is evil talk of a violent nature being bandied about among those fellows. The reports have come from some of our younger men, including your own two lodgers who clearly bold you in great respect and affection, and who are more than worried by the things they hear. The trouble has not been helped by Mistress Billington, who has been reported to the Council as having told the men that you have the Evil Eye, and smote her young son 298 with it when she denied you your charges! . Becky clicked her tongue impatiently. 'Sir, I beg you not to give too much importance to idle words of this nature. I promise that I have done nothing to deserve them, except to throw slops at some men who gathered outside my window when I was preparing for my bed one night. I know their thoughts. I feel their eyes following me when I walk by. They cross themselves and move away as though I were unclean - a leper. It worried me a lot at first, but now I'm glad, for it means that they will surely give me and my home a wide berth in future' and will not lurk outside the house after dark.' The old man shook his head, worry lines cutting deep grooves in the freckled forehead. 'I feel that it might not be as simple as that.' He gave her a smile of great gentleness and sipped his steaming mug. my hearts always. We feel that we have been more than fortunate in having you and Richard here with us. Now, with these strangers among us, eating what scant stores we have left, and stealing from the fields and our gardens, we daily become weaker in body - and sharper in mind. I sense something in these men that I cannot define, and I am beginning to fear that feeling. Do nothing, I pray you, which could feed their untutored minds and fill them with even more superstitious thoughts. I also ask that you stay away from their sick, and guard your- self cl ' osely beyond the times that the two Ridgeways can protect you. There is a bad atmosphere growing in the heart of our little community. It is something that I must apply my mind to as well as my faith.' He sighed - a desolate sound. His heavy shoulders drooped. 'Unfortunately, I find it more and more difficult to thrust my mental energies into philosophical thought these days. Each new day is a greater battlefield to sustain that oneness of pur- pose to which I am committed.' She searched his ageing face. She found pain there and sorrow and anger. Nowhere, however, was there a sign of the defeat that his words implied. 'You are the perfect leader for the God in us all,' she said. 'You are wise enough to keep out of the political problems that come up, when it must be increas- ingly difficult to do so, for you are just as much a member of the community as all the rest of us. Look at the Billingtons for proof. They are conforming, even though they are still a little abrasive. The rest of us - Richard and 1, we listen to you, and 299 'You know that you are close to Mary's and to the wisdom of your beliefs and integrity. We support all that you do, and would hear no word denying your doctrines. You cannot do better, sir, than warm the hearts of the opposition as you have done and are doing . . . Your head bothers you again, I can see. May I help you to rid yourself of that burden, at least?' He looked at her with the mixture of puzzlement and accept- ance that he always had when she caught him thus. It meant little to him when she had tried once to explain to him how she saw everyone haloed in their own special light, and that the light changed with their moods, so that pain showed in colours, rather than expression. She came to him and put her cool hands on either side of his head. He had suffered these blinding headaches for several years now. They seemed to appear whenever be felt himself under pressure of too great a nature. Since the first occasion when Becky had cured him on Mayflower's rolling deck, she bad eased this condition for him several times and, understand- ing the reasons for it not at all, he had accepted her help with humility and gratitude. He closed his eyes and prayed for the goodness of God to flow through this gifted girl, and to ease him of one of the loads which he carried so willingly. He felt it immediately - that strange bumming vibration which coursed though her feather-light bands into the very marrow of his skull. It flooded him, drowning all thought, so that he must needs give himself up to the nerve-tingling feeling of pure sensation. There was no similarity of experience with which he could compare this opalescent charging of his nervous system. He felt himself immersed in a stream of bound- less energy, then out of it, he felt renewed while he had noticed that Becky herself seemed spent and exhausted. The pain receded and fell from him. As her hands released his head, he opened his eyes and breathed deeply. Her nigbts became shot with violent dreams. Eyes followed her; hands reached out to lay their slimy fingers upon her; fear beat against her senses like a trapped bird in a chimney, She woke each morning running with sweat, exhausted - and sought solace in Amos's small, reassuring presence. The Council was carrying out the gover'nor's threat and had now created a weekly magistrates' court to try and sentence the 300 culprits who continued to steal the unripe maize from the fields, and pillage the village vegetable patches. The punishment was a sound beating before the whole community, but still the pil- fering continued and increased. The worst occasion of this kind was when the Sbore Warehouse was broken into. Inside were the collected furs and merchandise for export of the past twelve months. There were also eighteen casks of heavy, sweet wine, the best of the year's refining from the forest vines. Three casks had been broken open and drained. It was not discovered until after the Gardenar house had been burned to the ground. Hobbamock was a constant visitor to the house. He had attached himself to Becky since she had clearly been close to the great Chapanuk and, now that he had gone from his people, she was, all that was left of his extraordinary blind sighted wisdom. It was shortly after Chapanuk's death that they bad talked together. She knew before be told her that he had come with the news of the old Powwaw's death. Her face had been gaunt with an inner sorrow that should not have been there so close to the birth of her much wanted son. When, unexpectedly, she had asked him whether he would be prepared to go on a journey to the Squaw Sachem of the Massachusetts, he had consented without question. It was no great surprise to him that she knew so much of these people, since it appeared that she must share the same extra sight as Chapanuk had possessed. The message he took in his head was simple. Should the white Powwaw squaw come on a journey to the land of the Squaw Sachem, would she find herself well received, since she would only come in peace? Mystified but unquestioning, he had gone alone, travelling on foot at the comfortable lope that each male Indian learned from childhood. He had been gone many days and returned silently, scarcely missed by Standish and those at whose houses he was especially welcome. The message he brought back was non-committal. The Squaw Sachem made all those who came in peace welcome. The white squaw Powwaw would be no exception. Plymouth woke one morning and found the Gardenar house daubed with charcoal hieroglyphics and strung with bunches of wild garlic. It needed no explanation, for witch repellents had long been part of everyone's upbringing. Becky made a special point of walking out that day. She went up to visit Desir6 and Martha Ford, with Amos, to the Hopkins house next door, across the street to Priscilla and the two girls, Elizabeth Tilley 301 and Mary Chilton, who lodged there. She took dried flowers sewn into little bags to Mary Brewster as a sweet-smelling gift for her blanket cupboard. She walked with Martin Ridgeway and the two children - Amos in her arms - down the wide street to the Shore Gate, and strolled with them along the beach while the young ones ran ahead to dig for clams. At the day's end, all had seen that she was well, beautiful - and untouched by superstitious spells and prayers. The fears and murmurings still grew. They gathered out of sight, only recognised by the stealthy sliding away of eyes, the crossings made when she passed them by, the total withdrawal of most of the newcomers from her vicinity. 'I certainly don't mind,' she would joke about it. There must be no intimation of the awful sense of foreboding which had begun to haunt her. Daily, she was more deeply filled with an urgency she could no longer ignore. A day came when she knew that Henry and Humility must be got out of the house without delay, wilhout another night passing. The summer heat had settled upon the land, the spring winds and showers wash- ing the azure skies of all but thin traces of cloud. The men were glad now to be sleeping outside. Small breaths of fresh cool currents gentled ~the fields during the night hours, and a light dew refreshed the thirsty soil. It was halfway through a parched August day when Becky felt the overwhelming urge to move. She hurried up the bill to Elizabeth Hopkins. The day shimmered with heat. The field workers perspired, their movements languid, leaden. 'I don't know how to ask you this,' she said nervously to Elizabeth, looking at the now heavy, child-laden woman, close to her approaching confinement, and puffed, this time, with unnatural fluids, exhausted, hollow eyed. Elizabeth had wel- comed her warmly enough, but her shoulders drooped in the dusty sunlight, her smile was almost an effort. 'Could I ask you to sleep the two children here with you for this night?' Becky floundered, hard put to find an excuse that sounded even slightly plausible. Finally she blurted out, 'It's ridiculous, I know - but I have the most awful feeling of danger building up inside me. Those men are so frightening. They follow me about in the shadows, yet they cross the path to avoid me. They stick emblems and fearful messages on the front door and, this very morning, we found a bag with six corn dolls in it. They had all had their heads cut off - and their arms and legs too. We are six in the house at this time, with Richard away. Elizabeth, I'm suddenly so frightened. I'm sure that they are planning to barin us, and I can't subject the poor children to such a thing ... will you have them, just for this one night? Then I will see if Priscilla will take them in, when she and John get back from their visit to Manomet. I wouldn't burden you with this if they were here, but they went off yesterday to take medicines to some sick Indians, just as I was beginning to feel really desperate.' Elizabeth had no need for further* explanations. She took Becky's hand and drew her into the house, all too aware of the filamented atmosphere which hung over the whole village. 'Don't worry,' she said in her calm and practical way. 'They do seem to be building up to some mischief, we can all feel it. But whether it's aimed at you or at more thievery I'd not like to guess. Bring the children to me, by all means, if it makes you less apprehensive. Send them up in time for their evening meal, and we shal! treat it as a special occasion. It's Damaris's birthday, you know.' The day ticked away in slow seconds, Becky worked quietly in the vegetable patch, weeding the dry soil and thinning the young shoots. She tried to think of nothing but the tender, growing things under her hands, while she inhaled the resinous air, and trailed her eyes over the cottage tops to the mute blue distance of the sea's infinity. It was no good. Warning after warning beat upon her senses - hung in the close, insect- humming silence of the charged air. She returned to the house, put the children's belongings into a wide brimmed potato basket, then turned to her own possessions. With every passing moment, the certainty grew that she must leave this coming night. She would have to travel light, but how would that be possible with Amos as her primary armful? She was in the kitchen, standing over the children's basket of clothes when a shadow blocked the sharp sunlight from the open doorway. She looked up quickly. It was only Hobbamock. He stood respectfully in the doorway, bowing as the Pilgrims had taught him. Hand licking was for Indian households only now. He looked at her keenly, seeing the strain on her face. 'Some- thing is wrong, mistress?' She shook her head. 'I hope not, Hobbamock, but I have this terrible feeling that there is great danger for us all in this house. It has been growing and becoming more urgent for days, and now I feel that I must take my son and leave the village quickly! 303 He felt the charge as her great eyes swept over him, large with unshed tears. 'Your good Powwaw of the Nausets warned me of my own people,' she said miserably, as he stood quietly, leaning against the open door, his eyes solemn, gentle. 'He did all he could to stay alive so that he could help me when the time of danger came. I simply didn't understand his warnings ... I couldn't believe that such danger could come to me from my own people. But these newcomers are not my people. They have white skins and black souls.' Hobbamock took a cautious step into the kitchen. He never crossed the threshold until he was invited. There was still too clear a picture of his first meeting with this strange and wondrous creature, when she had shrunk from him - and given birth to a monster. 'I can help you, mistress. Can you not go to the governor's house or to your Powwaw, Mister Brewster?' She shook her head and turned back to the small items of clothing on the kitchen table. There was suddenly something heartbreakingly endearing about the size of Henry's stockings, Humility's little cotton liberty bodice. 'You will go from here this night?' 'Hobbamock, I just don't know yet. I shall know once the night comes. I feel it. But I must be prepared! He nodded. With the Wise Ones, nothing was unusual for tl.-iey moved at the will of their gods, whoever they were. 'Will you go north, mistress? The tears spilled from her eyes at last, great fat rivulets that coursed down her checks and dropped on to the top of the children's folded clothing. 'Don't ask. Not till it happens. I don't know what I shall do - I only know that very soon I must do something! A thought occurred to her. 'Hobbamock, there is one thing that I'd be glad of your help with! His eyes lit up. She was confused - womanly _ but he would serve her, for she was part of Chapanuk, and a beautiful woman in any. case. 'Take my medicine chest. I will wrap it in canvas, and you can take it through the gate and say that it is merchandise for Massasoit. They are hardly likely to question the contents for it will be far too bulky. If this night brings no new fears, then I shall ask you to bring it back to me later. For this night .though, hide it for me, and then come back here and stay close to theHe went with baste to find a suitable hiding place for the oak 304 chest of her Powwaw's treasures, and to prepare his canoe for the journey he knew they must make. Humility returned. Her face was flushed from her exertions with the firewood, but she became happily excited when Becky mentioned Damaris's birthday and the surprise arrangements for the night. 'Why have you put in all our clothes?' she asked suspiciously, looking at the bulging potato basket,in alarm. 'I'm going to have a spring clean while you two are out of the house, and Mistress Hopkins has promised to look through all your clothes and see whether she -has some suitable cast offs from her own family for you.' How easy it was - bow terribly easy, to lie so glibly when necessity required it. Ile day dragged. Each minute began to feel like an hour. Apprehension grew in her like a darkening of tbq sky. The slouching men seemed to be lying about in the sunshine, watch- ing the little house - watching her with sly eyes. She packed the chest into a canvas sack, and Hobbamock, returning, took it, leaving the house from the back garden and climbing through the Winslow vegetable patch before appearing in the street further up the hill. He sauntered past the front with the canvas package on his shoulder, and picked a conversation with young John Crackston, who was on his way out of the village to the eel nin. No one stopped them at the Brook Gate. The children were dispatched up the hill to the Hopkins' house when they came in for their evening meal. Becky stood in the doorway watching them run happily up the path and out of her life. She had not dared to give them more than the usual quiet bug and peck on the cbeek. She turned back into the kitchen, numb with the weight of her growing certainty. Martin Ridgeway was going on duty at the gate later that evening. That left only Stephen. She eyed the two young men thoughtfully. They were in animated conversation, hunched over the scrubbed kitchen table, their bowls of pottage scraped clean, a few table crumbs the only evidence of the corn cake she had made them that morning. Stephen absent-mindedly picked up crumb after crumb and ate them, as be argued with his brother over a fine point in the eel catching they so enjoyed. The soft glow from the rush light beside them highlit the hollows of their eyes, and left smudges beneath their cheekbones. They looked thin, almost wasted - but then, so did everyone in the village now. She took a deep breath and closed the kitchen door softly 305 behind her. Tefore you go on gate duty, Martin, there is some- thing I have to tell you.' She sat down beside Stephen. They turned gentle expectant faces towards her, their blue brothers' eyes fixed upon her with the same affectionate enquir- ing look. She twisted her fingers together and turned her wedding ring nervously. 'I cannot tell you why, but I am certain that the men are going to make trouble for us here tonight! She lowered her eyes from the puzzlement she saw in theirs, and spoke quickly so that they would have no chance of interrupting her until she had finished what had to be said. 'Don't ask me how I know. I don't know myself ... exceptto have the most terrible feeling of danger - like an animal does, and that's enough for me. I have sent the children up to the Hopkins for the night. You, Martin, are going on gate duty at dusk, which is any moment now. Stephen, would you help me to leave the house with Amos after dark, and to climb over the stockade wall at the end of the garden? Hobbamock will be on the other side to help us down. I shall put Amos on my back like the Indians do. Then he will take us, and hide us until whatever is going to happen is over.' 'Come now, love. You can't just go mad and run off into the woods on the strength of a premonition,' Stephen said, his voice soothing, reasonable. Women sometimes had strange fancies when the moon was in a certain quarter, and after childbirth. Maybe this was just such a case. She looked at him grimly, seeing his thought. 'I can indeed when the premonitions are my own,' she said shortly. 'Now, please don't try to be obstructive, qither of you. There really is something afoot. Even Elder Brewster is aware of it. He came here this morning to ask me to keep to the house, or to go and stay with him.' 'Well, if you are feeling insecure, that would probably be just the right thing to do,' Mar-tin said. The men from Charity certainly were in a strange mood today. He'd felt their ani- mosity himself, seen the shared looks between some of the louts who hung around the gates as the workers came in from the fields. 'There's no point in my taking refuge in any of the houses inside the stockade,' she explained patiently. 'I'd only bring the same trouble down upon that house, and why should I subject others to danger when it's clearly me that the superstitious fools are after? No. Please let me do it my way. Then, if the whole, 306 thing proves to have been a false alarm, you may both chastise me and dismiss me as a foolish wife who's missing her husband, and has some strange ways of showing it.' They didn't smile as she had hoped that they would. They were quiet by nature, well-behaved around the house, and always respectful and concerned for her welfare. The uncer- tainty in their eyes frightened her and she pleaded with them. 'Please help me. It is not a big thing I am asking of you - you, Martin, to engage your duty guard in conversation while I get Amos and me over the wall - and you, dear Stephen, just to help me to do it. Then you may wash your hands of me if you will, but don't return to the house, Stephen. Join Martin up on the palisade. It will be safer there, I should think.' Martin nodded. 'All right, I don't mind doing my part, though I think you are making a mountain out of a mole bill. I have noticed how slyly they look at Stephen and me, but thaes just because we lodge with you, and I'll grant you that it's clear as day that they have labelled you 'witch', after all the things they keep nailing to our door. They'd never dare do a thing more than that though, for Mistress Billington and maybe little Mistress Winslow be the only ones in the community who share those thoughts with them. Sfie took them each by the hand. 'Wait and see. 1 know that something dreadful is afoot in their bearts. I thank you both for not sharing the wickedness of their rumours ... and for letting me do what I have to. You will never regret it.' The sun sank and the village slowly drowned in soft violet dusk. Becky fed Amos and dressed him in warm shawls, though the evening still teemed with dancing heat and the sleepy cacopbony of browsing summer insects. She laid him gently in his little Moses basket, woven by Hobbamock's wife, of bemp and bullrusbes, and gazed intently down at the small cherub face, watching him struggle to focus his eyes upon her. A windy smile lifted a comer of his wide mouth, and then he closed his eyes as sleep followed the full satisfaction of the feed she had given him. Buttoning up her bodice, she took in the details of the simple room - the now completed four poster bed, which was Richard's pride and joy: at the crimson curtains that she had brought over with her, and bad sewn with such loving care during the first year; Richard's precious picture of his father's ship; their two iron-banded travelling chests; the pair of high- backed wide-seated chairs that Richard was working on in the evenings at present ... everything in the room - in the whole house - was the result of their own painstaking labours, their own shared love for this first home. She wondered about the next hours with a new detachment bom of living with the dread of it for too long. No questions were left any more. just wait - and see - and move one jump ahead of danger. Martin had fixed thick paper across the bedroom window since the men bad stared in at her. Indeed, most of the com- munity had done this, as there had been plenty of subsequent complaints of the same nature. She lit one reed light and left it glowing softly in a far comer of the room, then went through into the kitchen to doze across the hearth from Stephen and wait for Hobbamock. Even the growing excitement which filled Stephen had not been strong enough -to cut through his exhaus- tion, and he sat slumped in Richard's oak chair, chin on his chest, snoring softly. She watched him for a long time, cherish- ing the goodness of the aura that came from him, and envious of his calm acceptance of all things. Sleep must have come, for they were both woken with a jerk by the sudden insistence of a light scratching. The sound repeated itself with urgency from the shuttered window at the back of the kitchen. Stephen leapt to his feet and went over to the window. Eyes on Becky, he stood flat against the wall and motioned her to his side. 'Who is it?'he said in a low voice. 'Hobbamock,'came the muffled reply. 'Take the lights into the bedroom while I open the sbutter,' he told Becky over his shoulder. If there were watchers, it would be best not to offer them a target. When the door bad closed behind Becky and the lamps and the room was in dark- ness, he unbolted the heavy shutters cautiously. The night was velvet in its density. He smelt the Indian's greased body in the still air beside the window. Hobbamock climbed in silently, and Stephen closed the shutters again quickly. 'Sir,' the Indian hissed urgently in the darkness. 'The bad men are breaking into the shore warehouse. They have taken three barrels of fire water. There are ten of them, sir. I have been watching them! Stephen called out to Becky. 'It's all right now. You can bring the lights back.' She opened the door, spilling the bedroom's golden light into the black kitchen in a shaft of shimmering yellow. Hobbamock repeated his tale.. 308 'I must go quickly and inform the captain,' Stephen said, his face grim. 'No, no ... it's too late,' Hobbamock hissed, laying a hand on the boy's arm as he turned towards the door. 'They took the barrels after sundown, sir, and have been drinking them down on the beach by the spruce grove. I stayed and watched them for a long time as I was preparing my canoe for the mistress and her papoose. The mistress must go now quickly', for those men are full of the fire water, and when I came away they were beginning to swell each other's courage with many shouts and speeches. They had just begun to get ,,to their feet and make for the Shore Gate. One of their own people is on duty there, with the younger Master Winslow. They will not refuse them entry.' Becky closed her eyes for a moment. It bad begun. She opened them to find Stephen staring at her with something akin to fear in his eyes. 'It's extraordinary,' he said. 'How could you have known?' 'Do not ask, sir,' Hobbamock said gently. 'You should have more faith in the mistress and her wisdom, as I have, for she has the power that our great Nauset Powwaw had! He turned to Becky. 'Come now, mistress, we must go while the night is dark. The moon will soon ride out from her nest in the trees, and then it will be too late to go unseen.' Wordless, she turned and went into the bedroom. She put her black cloak about her shoulders and pulled a sheet from the bed. She tore it down the centre and knotted the two strips, feeling nothing but a numbness, as though her actions were being controlled like a puppet on a set of strings. She lifted the sleeping baby in his reed basket, and knotted the sheet strips tightly round him, basket and all. Hobbamock came and took the child from her. 'I shall put him on my own back to climb the wall,' he said firmly. 'I have more strength than you, mistress. I will climb faster, and he will be safer.' She nodded, numbness freezing her tongue. Stephen snuffed the kitchen lamps and cautiously opened the shutters of the rear window once more. Hobbamock slipped out and stood like a statue, listening and getting his night sight. Then he held his hands through the window. 'Quick. Give me the child.' Stephen lifted _1be baby in his basket and handed him through, then put-his great band under Becky's elbow, and helped her to scramble out after Amos. 'Take care, lass.' The words were featherlight in her ear. 309 She turned in the darkness and put her lips lightly to his rough cheek. The night drummed thickly in their ears. She stood quietly -phen to draw the waiting against the side of the house for Ste shutters to and join her. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and then he was able to make out the shadowy shape of Becky waiting near him, and Hobbamock moving quietly away from them down the garden. A nightjar kaarked nearby. The village was still, but for the quiet murmur of voices over to their left; Martin grid the other guard up on the palis- ade at the Brook Gate, gogsiping over a pipe of tobacco to keep themselves awake. The fragrance of their pipes wafted across in the still air. The far distance was disturbed by muffled singing. As they hurried after Hobbarnock, they heard the scrape of boots as the other gate guards roused themselves and strained to identify the sudden disturbance. There was loud hammering on the Shore Gate, some four hundred yards away at the bottom of the hil.l. Martin and his companion clattered along the catwalk to try and see what was amiss. Across the village at the Forest Gate, the other guards were doing likewise. 'Now, mistress,' Hobbamock's voice was a light breath hissing in her ear. 'No one will look this way with that noise going on. I have ropes here ready! He made a sudden movement. There was a small thud. Hobbarnock leant forward in the dark. The rope's looped end snaked upwards and slipped over one of the spiked stakes. He had another rope already wound around his body. 'Lend me your cape,' he murmured to Becky. 'I will put it on the spikes at the top, so that you do not hurt yourself on them as you climb over.' Stephen secured the baby in his basket to the Indian's broad back. 'Don't wake and cry for me,' she prayed. Amos's baby face was a pale blur in the heavy night. Then Hobbamock was gone, shinning smoothly and easily up the rope, pulling with his strong arms, feet twisted round the rope for greater support. Becky strained to see how he held the rope, and then he was gone into the upper darkness. They stood tensed, listening intently, but there was no tell-tale thud from the other side of the wall. Down the hill, the shouting was increasing, and more fists hammered at the Shore Gate. They were too far away to dis- 310 cern what was being said, but raised cated that John Winslow was disagreeing hotly against admit- ting ten drunken men into the sleeping village. A loud crash and ragged cheers indicated that he had lost the argument. Lights began to go on in the houses. 'Come on, quickly. Up you go,' Stephen whispered. She turned to him, heart in mouth, and put both hands on either side of his face. It was burning hot. She kissed him lightly on the mouth and laid her cheek for an instant against his. 'Thank you, Stephen ... thank you.' Then she turned quickly, before his bands could find her, and grasped the rope as she bad seen Hobbamock do. She stretched up her arms and pulled herself upwards, locking the rope between her ankles. After the strangeness of the first few seconds when she felt that her wrists would not support her light weight for another moment, she quickly found muscle control, and then it was not difficult to pull herself, band over band, up to the black smudge of her cloak at the top of the stockade. It was not far to climb - ten feet only, but it seemed to take forever before she was perched precariously between the spikes, feeling for the other rope that hung down the other side. She remembered to pull up the first rope, gingerly brought her legs round, hitched the bunched thickness of her skirts into her leather belt, and began to slide down, holding fast to both ropes. Thev burned her hands, blistering palms and fingers, but, even as sfie registered this, Hobbamock caught her and steadied her fall. Her feet touched springy turf and she was down. He gave her the baby in silence, and then was gone again, up the rope. Her cloak landed with a light plop beside her, then a rope. In seconds, be was down, flicking the lassooed end of the remaining rope clear of the spike to which it bad been secured. He wound them both round his body as Becky shrugged herself back into her cloak. The whole operation had taken no more than five minutes. 'Come quickly now,, mistress. Watch where you put your feet.' He took her band and led her down the sloping field to the brook, two silent shadows flitting from rock to bush. Her eyes were sharp now, and there was no need to use the inner sight. She sensed the alarmed stirring of the community in their beds, sensed the rising up of Standish and his duty patrol. She followed Hobbamock along the overhanging bank of the brook, through trees, and past the eel trap. Above, in the village, the rioting men streamed through the 311 Shore Gate, the blood-lust fired by each other, and the quantity of wine in their starving bodies. John Winslow lay against the opened gate, blood streaming from his nose and mouth. Against the pain and singing in his head, he dimly heard the roar of the little captain's mighty voice bellowing down the hill from the Carver house. A light flickered and was strengthened by another. They were lighting flares. The canoe was hidden in bushes just above the water line, a hundred yards along the beach beyond the Shore Gate. Hobbamock and Becky moved cautiously past the warehouse, crouching close to the shingle as they crept on to the empty shore directly below the gate. Pebbles rattled hollowly away from beneath Becky's feet, and Hobbamock's hand snaked out and gripped her arm, freezing her into stillness. The shouting was magnified by other throats now and they slipped past the yawning gate as a great orange flame sud- denly shot up into the night sky, somewhere up the hill. 'The house, mistress. They have set the house alight! She dared not speak, dared not think or feet, dared not project herself to watch what they were doing to her home. It was only important to take Amos to safety, to save herself and the child - for Richard. For Chapanuk. For something special that the future held for Amos. What was it that Chapanuk had said to her on the day they found each other again? a special son to make up for the past.' Hobbamock found the canoe and took the sleeping Amos from her. He tucked the basket into the narrow bow, and slid the little craft down the beach and into the water. She hitched up her skirts, took off her shoes and stockings, and f ollowed the Indian down into the sea. The canoe was light, and it bobbed and dipped as she climbed gingerly in and settled herself against the medicine chest. Hobbamock held the boat steady for her. There was a rush of movement as the sea slid down the sloping pebbles behind them, sighing as it tumbled over the sand and stone, and then they were out on the water, bobbing gently through the velvet darkness. Hobbamock settled down behind her with his paddle, and began to turn them out into the bay, away from the great angry glow which was beginning to spread out from the village. The moon broke free from the trees and sailed out into the night, lighting their path and turning the sea into an ocean of crumpled silver cloth. 312 CHAPTER FOUR A longboat put into Plymouth Bay in the early hours of the morning. The bay was a peaceful sight to the sailors who manned her; the little town, securely fenced, built up the hill- side, with a bubbling stream singing over the pebbles below. All round the settlement, wide tracts of fields were golden with ripe corn; green carpets of pinewoods rolled round it and down to the sea. There was a pleasing smell of resin and woodsmoke in the air. They found the village in turmoil. Half-way up the steeply sloping street, the blackened remains of a cottage gaped, a mortal wound among its companions. Thin spirals of wood- smoke rose from its carbonised timbers, filling the still air with the acrid smell of the previous night's holocaust. Small groups of villagers hung about with heads close together, speak- ing to each other in low voices, as though they were in the presence of the dead. Now and then, they would glance over their shoulders to where ten men sat on the ground outside the Common House at the top of the hill. They were securely bound, band and foot. Their sentences were presently under discussion. The crew of the longboat were given a surprised but hasty welcome. 'Forgive our contrariness,' Isaac Allerton said, burry- ing out of the council meeting as a messenger brought up the news of the boat's arrival. 'As you can see, we had some trouble here last night. These men broke into our warehouse, stole several casks of wine, and then set fire to one of the houses. If s a very bad state of, affairs for us - the first trouble that we have had since our arrival! The men had brought a letter from their master, John Huddleston. They were, they said, from the Bona Nova and were fishing further north. The contents of the letter caused nearly as great a stir as the previous night's misdemeanours had done. It brought news of a massacre of over four hundred men, women, and children in the Jamestown area. The local Indian tribes had risen against 313 the white settlers. and slaughtered all families in the outlying farmsteads. It was not clear how or why this had happened, or even how many more might still be found murdered else- where. The thoughts of the whole community flew to Stephen Hopkins and Richard Gardenar who were due to return to them on any tide aow. Soft, pale light. A gentle swooping rocking motion. Slap, slap of water beneath the paddle. Amos was awake, lying quietly in his wicker basket at her feet, gazing up at the gulls who rode in and veered away on the air currents over their heads. 'You have rested well?' Hobbamock said behind her. She turned round to him, smiling, and nodded. She moved with caution in the frail canoe, unaccustomed to its rocking motion, afraid that any sudden movement would tip it over and fling them all into the sparkling sea. 'Where are we?' she asked, bending over and scooping the baby out of his basket, then unbuttoning the front of her bodice. The child opened his tiny starfish hands and pressed them against her breast as she guided the soft pink nipple to his mouth. He took it hungrily and lay against her, drinking *in strong steady gulps and kneading the breast in cat-like con- tentment. 'We follow the land northwards, mistress! Hobbamock's voice sounded tired, but the regular movement of the paddle kept up'its steady rhythmic surge. 'The ocean carries us gently with it. When the sun dies and comes again, then we will come to the land of the Squaw Sachem of the Massachusetts! She crouched over the feeding child, watching the drowsi- ness spread through him. His deep blue eyes opened and closed, his small pursed lips sucked steadily. She felt the soft pressure as he drew milk from her. They were close to the shore., following its larger contours and headlands. The sea breathed sleepily beneath the canoe's slim hull, gurgling as they creamed through it. Hobbamock paddled with a slow firm regularity, muscled shoulders tip- pling with the effort of each stroke. The little craft scarcely seemed to move, yet a sandy spit appeared ahead, drew abreast of them - and slid by. Becky watched the slowly moving pine- clad hills with heavy-lidded, somnolent eyes. As the sun climbed higher up the sky, its flickering iridescence on the 314 water made her drowsy. When Amos had finished, she un wrapped him, taking the wet cloth from under him, so that h could lie warm and naked in his basket. He gazed up at he and played with her fingers, crowing and gurgling as she idl moved them to and fro before his face, and gradually let th diamond reflections lull her back into a dreaming state. Sleep had been a blessed release when it had finally com( before the dawn for, once the canoe was well out of reach ol the shore and firmly set upon its course, she had taken hers back to the village. She had watched the panic, the tumult, th( wild destructive rage and fear, as the ten men surged round the little house and the flames from their torches took a firm hold on the seasoned wood and roared up into the thatch with a sound like thunder. The fire party had pushed through the shrinking crowd, while Miles had come tearing down from the Carver house with John Howland and Will Latham, swords in their hands as they ordered the cheering, howling men back from the holocaust. She had watched the scuffles between the righteous and those filled with fear of her, but the community's sense of outrage was stronger than the rabbles' drunken courage, and the offenders were arrested and bound as their fellows looked dispassionately on. The little house had not taken long to die. She bad watched feeling her blood turn to stone as the roof collapsed and great orange tongues of greedy flame shot up into the night sky within a plume of deep red soaring sparks. She saw the four poster bed for a second, as the frantic water carriers threw bucket after bucket in through the gaping windows. Ravening jaws of fire enclosed it and sucked it down and inwards. The night air danced with sparks in the billowing heat and smoke. A hundred tense faces turned orange-yelJow as the inferno increased. Then it was all over. A wall collapsed, and the whole building seemed to sigh and fold inwards like a card house blown down by the breeze. The men's animal fervour died with the flames, and the crowd became mute, mesmerised by the speed of such total destruction. Somewhere in the ranks of staring people, a child began to cry. It was a signal. It broke the spell of shock. The fire fighting party brought hoes, besoms, rakes and gingerly poked at the glowing embers. Where were Becky and the baby and Stephen Ridgeway? The murmuring crowd tamed with relief as the brothers climbed down from the Brook Gate catwalk where they had 315 been watching the whole thing in stunned horror. They pushed through the crowd and quickly made their way to where Elder Brewster and the governor stood, cloaks wrapped round their night shirts. 'We're all safe,' Martin said brusquely to their anxious flood of questions. 'I don't know how she knew, but she told us that these men would try to do her an injury. She and the child went over the wall with Hobbamock in good time, and he's taken her off somewhere she reckons she'll be safe.' 'Why in heaven's name, did she not seek sanctuary with one of us?' Bradford asked, aghast at such folly, and that these two had permitted it. The brothers looked at him with the same gentle pity that she had shown them when they had asked the same question. 'Your honour, she said that wherever she went, -the men would seek her out,' Stephen said quietly. The young governor's face glowed with the embers' reflected light. 'She didn't want to put any other family into the same danger, you see. Nor us, nor Humility and Henry neither! The elder gave a small sound and turned away. He walked into the crowd of sullen men and frightened villagers and raised his hands and his voice. 'Lord, look down upon the work of your most undeserving servants this night,' he called, his voice trembling in the depths of his anger and emotion. 'Pro- tect the innocent, and on the Day of judgement, vent only your wrath upon the unworthy and the instigators of death and destruction. Let not the beasts of the forests nor the heathen in the wilderness harm the keeper of your most welcome graces. Lift, we implore you, the burden of responsibility which, in your gracious wisdom, you have laid upon us.' In the sudden silence, be lowered his hands and turned away, brushing past John Sanders, who stood angrily nearby. It bad not been his wish to see this sort of thing happen. Witch- bunting was for the simpleminded - and anyway, witch or not, the community here seemed perfectly happy with Mistress Gardenar. He'd hardly expected, though, to bear the vicar supporting the young temptress with such passion and fervour. The ten men and any that had joined them could take all the punishment meted on their heads - and with his blessing. He raised his eyes as the governor came over to him. 'You, Master Sanders,' Bradford said, his own anger icily controlled. 'You will be held responsible for the actions of the men under your leadership if it is discovered that the young 316 woman and her child have come to any harm. Mistress Ger- denar has been a courageous and well respected member of our community since circumstances brought us all together. She has worked ceaselessly, bringing our sick back to health and casing the last hours of the dying. There are few of us here who do not have her to thank for some part of our health. That your men should come here among us, steal from us, menace our womenfolk, and now destroy our homes and peace of mind, is beyond all comprehension. Because of our association with Mr Weston, we agreed to take you in, but this is too much. You have strained our hospitality too far.' He turned away and left the crowd, striding across to the Brewster house, head bowed. Becky had wandered among them, unseen, unhindered. She had watched the kaleidoscopic reactions of those who had been her neighbours, had shown her kindness and the faith of their friendship. Everywhere, she saw signs of the same secret thoughts, hidden under genuine regret and concern for her. That small kernel of fear, of superstitious doubt. Maybe Mis- tress Gardenar had, after all, consorted with the devil. How had she known that this terrible thing would happen? The memory remained of the monstrous creature that she had given birth to before Amos. Only four people had seen it - but if she was such a holy woman as the elder suggested, how could she have produced such an abomination ... ? She had left them and returned to thecanoe. It was so small and frail, rocking in an inky sea turned silver by the summer moon. There was something very final about the way the Indian drove his paddle into the water. He would never harm her. It showed clearly in the pure light about his black head. He believed implicitly that she was Chapanuk's chosen associate, and accepted her knowledge that was so far beyond his own, without question. It came to her as she watched him cleaving the little craft grimly through the night, that she would not be returning to Plymouth and, strangely, the thought gave her no sadness. The new day was filled with heat, and glaring, dancing light which made the head reel and the stomach chum. Great fish leapt near them, passing in sparkling shoals. Hobbamock had placed a gourd of water in the boat and some com bread but, by the time the sun sank on the everlasting water for the second time, they were parched and dehydrated, and painfully burned by two days of an uncompromising sun. Hobbamock only rested briefly, to relieve himself, and to drink sparingly. He stretched and worked his arms and legs, and massaged the tired muscles in his shoulders. They said little to each other. There was no need. She knew, without having to hear his words, that he would be her bridge with Plymouth, wherever she came to rest. He would be the one who would guide Richard to her. As the sun dipped into the crumpled gilded sea, they rested and watched Kytan paint the limitless canvas of the sky, turn- ing it from blue through violet to red before it faded slowly, majestically into orange, yellow, and green, then sank into the deep purple mantle of dusk. As night intensified about them, it became washed with stars. Hobbamock raised his head and sniffed the air. 'It is not long now, mistress,' he said, his voice dried into a croak. 'I smell the islands. They guard the village of the Squaw Sachem! , The night became briNiant with a million stars, and the moon riding ever higher in her jewelled ocean, shimmering, opalescently pure, almost at her fullest. Soon, it was easy to pick out the hunched shapes of rocky hillocks, small eases of bush-covered land, floating in the midnight sea. They picked their way through shoal and currents, veering, with skill, from hidden rocky teeth beneath the treacherous starlit water. Hobbamock paddled with total concentration, breathing heavily through his teeth. He gauged the water with confident, sure strokes, knowing his route. Becky sat quietly and nursed Amos. She thought she saw an orange spark at the edge of her vision, piercing the heavy night, and then vanishing. Her head felt strange and thick, and the ache that bad been consuming it for the past hours, throbbed through her skull like a red hot drill. Behind her Hobbamock said softly, 'The fires of Moekeck, mistress. That is where the Squaw Sachem lives! They sliced through the water on an incoming tide, carried eagerly in its current. Soon, there was land on both sides, and the twinkling glow of village fires danced and beckoned ahead. Hobbamock rested his paddle. He sat in the canoe, letting the tide bring them in towards the invisible beach. He cupped his mouth in both hands and broke the quiet night with the harsh cry of a great bird. Amos stirred in Becky's arms and gave a small whimper. 318 Somewhere beyond their vision the cry was answered once, twice. The boat moved forward again. 'We are welcome,'Hobbamock said. Figures materialised dimly on the approaching beach. Shadow became substance as the moonlight revealed their waiting shapes. Ile canoe slid on to sea-washed pebbles, and hands caught and steadied it. Hobbamock spoke and voices replied. A dance of tongues. Deep and light ones, questioning, awed. The boat swayed between the steadying hands as he climbed stiffly from it and stood with the water feinting like a fencer round his ankles. 'We will pull the boat up out of the water for you,' he said to Becky. 'Then you will come with me.' His voice was tired - gruff, but his eyes smiled their reassurance in the soft light of the glowing fires. Hands helped her out of the boat. Cramp shot up her legs, and she would have fallen but for Hobbamock's hand under her elbow, steadying her. She clung to him waiting for the pain and trembling to ease. 'Too long in the canoe, mistress . . . the blood flows slow.' She rubbed her legs and, felt the burning agony as her circulation returned. Amos was taken in his basket from the boat, and she held out her arms for him. 'Let me take him,' Hobbamock said gently. Tou would not want to fall with him when you are still weak.' He turned with the basket in his arms and walked away from her up the beach. Four men closed in on each side of her. She looked at the figure stalking ahead, tall - proud, through the long grasses and shadowed trees, towards the centre of the village She was tired. Waves of exhaustion engulfed her, washing like the waves of the sea over her with the roaring voices of storm and thunder. She gave herself up to it, let it lift and whirl her away ... She opened her eyes. There seemed to be someone singing in a trembling high pitched wail nearby. She realised as she 'w S c 0 'W m e' e F-gu Shado" wi - a tmg hands replied awed . climbec looked about her that it was the blood coursing through her head. It was dark. She was lying on soft furs in a hot cave of silence. As her eyes became accustomed to the total blackness, she began to make out dim shapes, a slice of lighter distance - a movement in the shadows. 'You are rested, mistresO You are better?' Hobbamock's anxious voice said. She sat up on her elbows. The dim shapes reeled. Pain shot 3X9 through her head and she cried out, putting her hands up to cradle it. 'Kytan has branded you,' he said. Sometimes it takes us that way when we have travelled over the sea under the sun for too long.' His voice floated over her, soothing, comforting. She remembered Amos. 'Where is my child?' she asked, keeping her eyes tightly shut against the drilling pain at the back of her skull. 'Don't worry, mistress. He is with the women. He is a treasured son to them. They are taking great care of him. Rest some more and, when the pain is gone, they will bring him to you., She lay back on the furs and let the pain engulf her. Funny how she could never help her own afflictions, only those of others. She felt his strong hand touch her shoulder briefly, reassuringly. 'I will stay, mistress. Sleep now.' She felt the milk gathered unused in her breasts, stretching the fine skin, aching in the glands under her arms. She drifted and rose beyond the pain, leaving the wigwam and going to Amos. There was no need for concern. He had obviously been an and comfortable. He was in his basket, fed, and made cle wrapped in his shawl, fast asleep - the little cupid s bow mouth curling up at each comer in his usual contentment. He had the beginnings of a dimple in his chin. It will grow into a cleft like Richard's, she thought, loving them both. Amos was in the wigwam of a young couple, and the girl who had obviously fed him was now suckling her own child. She looked very young, no older than Constanta, but another child, a boy of about three or four sat beside her and was gazing, round-eyed, into the basket at the magically pink-cheeked baby. She wandered all over the little town, missing nothing. It was not large, considering that it was the Massachusett's capital. Poverty showed everywhere. The years of the creeping death had stolen more from these people, Hobbamock had told her, than it had even from his own Wampanoag. Then the neighbouring Abnaki had moved in on the survivors, stealing their com, killing their warriors, and taking their women. In a final battle, they had killed Nanepasbemet, t I he legendary and courageous Massachusetts Sachem, and his squaw bad gone into hiding. When the Abnaki had gone, she had emerged and gathered the remnants of her husband's subjects to her' being of unusually forceful personality and wisdom. Gradually) she was restoring their lives to some form of peace and dignity. They were still struggling. They had no Powwaw. Their men were old or too young, or simple frightened of all strangers. The Squaw Sachem grew in wisdom and age, And they came to lean upon her strength. Her son would rule after her, but not until her death, for he was still a green youth, and many moons yet from the first of his initiations. She came upon the wooden building. This was such an unexpected sight that she paused, staring, realising that this was the sachem's residence. How very odd it was to find a wooden building among the wigwams, raised as it was on six-foot poles and accessible only by the solitary ladder. There was a single room inside, the roof was flat, made by long planks of timber laid simply across from one wall to the other, and covered with bark matting. The walls were windowless. She found the Sachem sleeping with her family out on the platform upon which the house was built; a kind of veranda. She was not young, but her face, lined and brown and shining with the oil of continuous application, was serene and peaceful in repose. Becky studied her closely, grateful for the soft blue light that came from this woman. She would not turn them away, without just cause. Chapanuk had been right again. She had much to thank him for. She turned away and returned to herself, to concen- trate on trying to eliminate the heatstroke which had overcome her. Richard stood beside Stephen and watched the familiar land- marks slide by Charity's port side. They had been away from Plymouth for just over three months, and both men were yearning for the sight of their families. How peaceful life in Plymouth seemed when they compared it with the hurly burly of busy Jamestown. Strangely enough, the crowds and noisy streets had irritated them both, rather than warmed them. They had been greeted as'newcomers with every evidence of plea- sure, and when it was known that they were part of the New England venture, they were plied with invitations and com- mercial offers. Richard quickly discovered that the appoint- ment he should originally have filled had naturally been given to another applicant. He was, however, offered several re- munerative posts in the expanding commercial dock area. Stephen inspected his plantation and found the English manager and his family far from his liking. The man was obsequious, fawning - yet there was an undercurrent in every- thing he said and did that made it clear that he resented the presence of his employer when he had clearly hoped that he would never appear. Then again, both men quickly discovered how tenuous was the hold and orderliness of the governor and the House of Burgesses over the population. Dissention was rife everywhere, the power of the Virginia Company in constant opposition with King James's representatives. The undertow of their discontent kept conversation in coffee houses, taverns, and drawing-rooms in a state of perpetual explosive discord which seemed little short of its inevitable flashpoint. Stephen had ordered the stores which would be necessary for Plymouth's survival. It took rather longer than they had hoped to load the cargo, for they were only permitted to load stores equal to the cargo that Charity would carry back to England from their Plymouth warehouse. It would not be enough to cover all their needs for the coming winter, even without the mouths of the sixty men whom Charity would be transporting at last to their own Wessergusset lands. It was the third week in September before the ship was ready to sail north once more, and Stephen and Richard had long finished their business. A week before they left, news exploded upon the town that Indians were on the rampage. Panic ensued. There seemed to be no proper town defence system. The years of slow apathy had seen more and more families settling and building homes further and further away from the comparative safety of the town. Farmers were arriv- ing by every ship, buying land, and building their homes on plantations as far out of the town as eight or ten miles, and it was from these remote homesteads that the first news of the slaughter reached them. By the time the militia bad been assembled into some form of properly directed retaliatory force, the damage had already been done. Home after home had been fired and pillaged, men, women, and children mas- sacred, crops burnt to the ground. At the time that Charity sailed, the death toll had reached a horrific four hundred. The Hopkins's plantation was one of the worst hit. His manager and his family perished, and all of his fifteen labourers. The voyage took four days. Peaceful early autumn days, full of the warm smell of mellow age, the thwack thwack of canvas against the shrouds, the lonely toll of the ship's bell in the small night hours, the press of creaming water beneath Charity's streaming bows. There were only nine passengers. Seven were 322 booked through to Rotherhithe, and among them were two plump, kindly sisters who, deciding that the politics and short- comings of colonial life were not, after all, to their liking, were on their way back to their more peaceful and predictable Shropshire countryside. They were, Stephen suggested, the very ladies with whom to entrust Desir6 and Humility. The smudge of distant land dissolved altogether at one point and they could not even spy the vague misted mirage of tree-lined hills. They were, the master explained, passing the mouth of the Hudson River where, off its north shore, the sea bed shelved upwards and became dangerously shallow and pitted with treacherous rocks and currents. They had passed the same point at night on the south-bound journey, and had gone even farther out to sea. Soon the ship was curving in once more towards the land. The two men leant over the side, ex- claiming as they recognised headlands and long sandy reaches. Then they were passing the odd tomahawk-shaped peninsula of their first landing. Cape Cod. Charity closed with the land - until it was suddenly possible to make out the two sandy arms that encompassed Plymouth Bay. Warmth and pleasure in the familiar sight of the neat little town straggling up the hill with its fields fanning outwards to river and forest, filled them with excitement and anticipation. They watched as a puff of smoke billowed out from the fort, and a moment later the report of the single minion echoed round the bay with its message of welcome. The two Misses Frencham twittered and crooned to each other at the rail at Richard's elbow as the ship turned into the bay and slipped to her deep water anchorage off Clarks Island. As the longboat was lowered for the two shore-going passengers, figures began to stream out from the Shore Gate and down on to the beach and the new jetty. Stephen was out of the boat first, before it bad even secured. The flying figure of Elizabeth swooped down the wooden planking of the new jetty, and he was engulfed in a flurry of skirts and golden hair, children, and a small puppy. Richard smiled up at them as he climbed out of the longboat and pulled himself up the jetty steps after Stephen. How good it was to be back again. He looked round for Becky. 'Welcome back home, Richard.' Elder Brewster came for- ward and shook him warmly by the hand, taking his in both of his own. He looked older than when they had parted, his hair almost white now, his face creased with fine new lines. 'Mary sends you her warm greetings also. Do please come and take a dish of mint tea with us.' 'I'd be glad to, sir.' Richard was touched by the old man's warmth. 'I will indeed. But I must first be re-united with my family. My son must be getting fine and large by now. Do you know where Becky is?' He saw the pain in the elder's fading blue eyes, and the breath was suddenly punched from his chest., 'She's all right, isn't she, sir? She's not ill?' 'Come with me, Richard,' the elder said, taking his arm and drawing him along the jetty and up on to the winding path. 'There have been happenings here the like of which I never thought to see. There is so much to tell you, my dear young man, and the person best fitted to give you all the details is Hobbamock who is in the town now.' They walked slowly up the hill, through the gate and on up the street, heads close together, Brewster talking quietly, gently, Richard bereft of words. No one accosted them to greet Richard. All stood back silently until their way passed the charred ruin of the little Gardenar house. Richard stood in the street, shock freezing him. Nothing had been touched since the night of the burning, save that the vegetable patch had been lovingly cared for and still yielded its autumn crop. Even after three months, a light smell of charred wood clung to the air about it. He turned away, the muscles in his cheek working, trying to clear the hard lump that rose in his throat. He allowed himself to be led over the road to the Brewster house and the door closed behind him., He waited for Hobbamock. The Brewsters told him all that they could, and the two young Ridgeways bad given him all the details of their part in Becky's disappearance. Hobbamock bad returned to Plymouth two weeks after the fire. He had brought with him a letter from Becky, written in blue stain Upon a piece of soft leather. I ... I have been welcomed and made most comfortable by these good people. Amos and I thrive. We have our own house and the Squaw Sachem has ensured that there is always ample protection for us. These people accept without fear or question the gifts of heating which the Good Lord has seen fit to bestow upon me. I help them when, they have need of me and in return, we are fed and clothed and well protected. I have never felt totally accepted and secure in my whole life before, and 324 this is a wonderful and precious feeling for me. You mu understand that there has always been a degree of suspicio levelled at me by neighbours and even friends - for my gift i miraculous, without doubt, but it has no connection with evi no source in the devil. Therefore, I feel that I must remai here and wait for Richard to join me. There will be plenty do, for he will be able to set up a trading post and support ou family through these means. Later, it may be possible fo others to join us - but on our terms, dear Mr Brewster. I wi never go back to that nightmare existence of suspicion and fea again! The letter had opened up a wealth of questions and they ha plied Hobbamock with them, but he had listened impassivel and shaken his head. 'Mistress is safe and happy, sirs. She tel you all "thank you," but now she not come back. She wants onl3 her man.' 'Why can't she come back?' Bradford wanted to know. 'After those men have gone, there are only our own people here, and they are used to her ways now. Is she sick? Has she been taken prisoner and been made to write us that letter?' Hobbamock sbook his head again, smiling. 'No, sir. She very happy. Never more happy in her life, she tell me. She like powwaw now to the families where she live, Nobody harm her, sirs. She wait for her man! They could get no more out of him. 'I take Master Gardenar when he come,' were his last words on the subject - and so they bad been forced to accept -the little be would tell them. Chances were, if anything bad be- fallen Becky, word of it would have filtered through from the other Indian tribes by this time. Not a mention of her was heard. Hobbamock knocked on the Brewsters' door just before the town gates were closed for the night. He was obviously de- lighted to see Richard once more and greeted him with digni- fied warmth. Richard, having shaken his hand, cut through any ftirther formalities. His face was ravaged with the shock of his arrival and the depths of his worry for Becky and Amos. 'Don't delay further-, Hobbamock,' be said to the Indian. 'I must thank you most sincerely for your part in helping Becky and the baby to safety, but you must tell me where she is now. I must know, and I must go to her right away without any further delay! The Indian bowed his head in agreement. 'She is many days 325 travel from here, si:r,' be said. 'Without you, I can travel on foot, and it will take me four days. Having you with me, it will take six or maybe seven days. She is well and so is your son. You must believe that! His black eyes sparkled. "I'liese bad men who have brought this trouble to your home ... they leave now on the ship-~' Brewster answered for him. 'Yes, indeed they do. Not a moment before time, either. We send thanks to the Lord to see them gone from here, though three must stay awhile for they are still sick. The main party will board Charity as soon as we have finished offloading our stores and refilling the hold with our own merchandise! 'Then, sir, I suggest that you, Master Gardenar, return to the ship, for those men will be going to their lands at Wess- agusset, and it is only one day's travel from there to the village of the mistress! She was in the north. They were surprised, having guessed that she must be in the care of one of the Wampanaog tribes. Hobbamock would be drawn no further. 'I shall go from here now, sirs,' he said. 'When you arrive in the great bay of islands, I shall be there to meet you and take you to your squaw.' It was an agonising period of waiting. It seemed that a whole lifetime passed while they were de-storing the ship, ferrying the casks and bales across the mile-wide strip of shallow yellow water, and then having to wait the best part of a day while a sudden squall hit them and blew itself out. The sea turned leaden grey beneath low bulging clouds. On board Charity, the Misses Frensham were laid in their bunks with the sea sickness. The other passengers remained in their cabins, regretting the near-starvation in the little town which prevented their wel- come ashore. When Charity at last boarded the Wessagusset men and Richard, she had been in Plymouth Bay for five days. Birdsong filled her days. Birdsong, the creamy colours of early autumn - and love. Her home was a wigwam, made for her by the women of the tribe. They showed her how to weave the fine strong mats of bark and grasses with which they covered their summer homes, and she sat among them, working happily with her bands and leaming more and more of their tongue, while Amos lay beside her in a new and larger basket that had been made for him. Her clothes were threadbare until Hobba 326 mock, going south to Plymouth, had returned with an over- dress and shift from Elizabeth. She had also sent a little letter which be had taken with another from the elder, blessing her and still begging her to return to them. '. . . the children are well, though Humility has had two more attacks of tb6 fever and cough. They both miss you more than I can say and so do the rest of your friends here. Rations are at their lowest. We are all weak but I have a new baby son to show Stephen on his return. He is not as strong as Oceanus and causes us some worry. Damaris also has not been well for some weeks now and the coming of the winter will not help either of them. When Charity returns, it has been firmly de- cided that Desir6 and Humility should return to England with her. It is in their own interests, though Desir6 is very unwilling to obey. The Ridgeways are tending your garden, and when Richard returns they will all join to help him build a new house. Then, when the ruffians have gone, you will be able to come back to Plymouth and find your home waiting for you . . . ' No, she thought. I shall never go back now. There is much too complete a life forming among these people, and they would offer the same acceptance to Richard also. They had accepted her totally, taking their lead from the Squaw Sachem. While she had been sick, Hobbamock had gone to the Sachem and told her of the high esteem in which Chapanuk had held Becky. He related the great Powwaw's words with the extrava- gance and oratory that came naturally to the Indian people, embellishing Becky's beauty, her powers of healing, and her knowledge of the ways of the wild creatures and the thoughts of men and women. The Squaw Sachem bad listened impassively, showing neither interest nor disinterest but when Becky was recovered from her exposure, they spent the whole of one day together, deep in discussion. At the end of it, they sat back satisfied with each other, each finding in the other something rare and deeply needed. Becky could stay with the Massachusetts' going north to Naumkeag where the Sachem's winter quarters were. She would treat the sick and advise when her help was sought. In return she would be respected as the Sachem's Powwaw should be respected, and guarded with all the honour of the whole tribe. The days turned mellow, ageing with beauty. The land dried gold and orange. She waited. 327 Hobbamock had returned to Plymouth again and when next she saw him, he would have Richard with &m. There would be plenty for him to do here at Naumkeag, for they were not far from the rich sea grounds where the English fishing fleets came each spring. Richard would be able to trade with them, exchanging the furs and trinkets that the tribe brought in, in payment for the medicines and cures she effected for thein. Her hands had already brought respite to many of the in- habitants of this sheltered riverside village. Toothache seemed a common hurt among the people and this was luckily a fairly elementary illness for her to cure. News of her powers spread and slowly travelled south. Amos was growing fast. At four months, be was strong- backed and golden from lying naked in the sunshine as the other babies in the tribe did. They travelled on their mothers' backs when the women were in the fields, their little knees bent up to their stomachs so that they would be in a sitting position when the wooden-backed cradle was put to the ground . This seemed wrong and possibly stunting to Becky, so she insisted that Amos stay in his basket and use his small fat limbs freely. She walked in the woodland, along the river bank, collecting herbs and showing the village children which ones she would need for her medicines. Once they knew, it was their job to gather for the Powwaw and leave her more time to concentrate on the complicated and time-consuming business of seeing to the actual distilling, and receiving the sick. It was becoming a strangely gracious life. Food was brought to her when she was hungry. The sick came to her door. There was always an attendant waiting to see to her needs. Squaw she may be but, like their wise Sachem, she was treated with reverence at all times. The years of whispering and fear re- ceded. Amos had been thoroughly rubbed down with bear grease and, on this occasion, Becky's objections had been gently but firmly brushed aside. It was simply for his own protection, it was pointed out. If his delicate skin was exposed to the cold winter and icy winds, he would certainly die. He had little clothing save for his shawl and baby dress, and was fast out- growing both. Becky had lately begun to notice a strange fact about her small son. The fine white skin was gently tanned to pale gold, and the,bear grease had further deepened its honeyed hue. His baby hair was rubbing off at the back of his head but on top, soft black curls were just starting to grow thickly. With his long 328 dark lashes so like Becky's own, he was even beginning to look a little like an Indian baby, she thought. The only difference these days between Amos and Wawela's baby seemed to be his bright blue eyes, Richard's eyes. Lately though, they too had begun to deepen and change in their texture, though that might be purely the swift changes in his expressions. She couldn't quite decide. They had, however, definitely begun to reflect something deeply familiar to her but beyond her recognition. She took to sitting outside the wigwam in the sunshine with Amos cradled in her full skirt between her knees. She would chat to him softly and watch his growing awareness of her and the things about him - and of that something which lay dor- mant just behind his awakening gaze. He was focusing well now, following the things that passed by on earth or in the sky with intense interest and laughing in his happy infectious hic- cupping way when she gently teased him. Those eyes loved nothing better than to gaze up into hers, reaching into her great brown depths with an expression that was at once alert, twinkling - teasing. Somehow, it was an eminently familiar look. The sea trip was quite shom The weather had begun to cool fast and they had bad a keen following wind. Charity left Plymouth with the early evening tide, and was anchoring in Massachusetts Bay late the following evening. Hobbamock was as good as his word. Richard saw his rangy figure standing on the shore as the first boatload of passengers was rowed across from the ship, His spirits rose. The two men clasped hands and quickly turned away from the milling group of men. It began to rain and Hobbamock led him in among the trees. 'Tonight we travel only a short way and then sleep,' he said. 'Tomorrow, we travel and reach Naumkeag before the sun dies.' His face was happy, the bumour that always seemed to lie just below the surface of his impassivity, dancing in his dark eyes. 'Just like old times,' be said to Richard. 'Soon we all to- getber again, and mistress all full of sunshine once more. Your son, he's a real little Indian boy now ... you see. Very strong, very fine boy. Big shoulders, good strong handshake on the It rained heavily and a cold current of air blew off the sea 329 but he felt none of it. The land no longer held back from him, alien, distrustful. It held Becky and Amos and the future of them all. He turned his face to the north and followed Hob- bamock into the hills. She felt him. Sensed his approach. Her mind went out to him and now she was able to see the two of them, Richard striving to follow Hobbamock's light lope. His face was drawn. There were new lines on it, filled with the depth of his worry and tension, but lit now with a glow of anticipation. She made careful preparations for his arrival, hanging fresh bunches of sweet smelling herbs round the wigwam walls, and choosing the softest furs to line their couch. The people watched her activity with interest, for she bad said that her man was nearly here. It would be interesting to test the ac- curacy of her magic. The Squaw Sachem was away visiting other villages on the eastern side of her kingdom. Six of her warriors had been detailed to remain in the village to act as Becky's bodyguard. She sent two of them off to meet Richard and Hobbamock and bring them in with all speed. She bmshed her halt -and combed it with the bene combs lherlinXinn ne~igVbours'na& untethered, luxuriant - glowing like polished wood. It was the way he loved to see it as she prepared for bed. It was the way her people of Naumkeag liked her to wear it, so that the beauty of its glowing lights could add further to her mystery. She picked Amos out of his basket and put him to her shoulder where he perched,, winding his chubby fingers in her hair and pulling at it, chuckling and crowing. She thought of Chapanuk, so far away in that south-west paradise where all the wise and good went after death. Her heart turned over. Memory hid so many of the treasures it stored, so many of the things he had said to her ... She held the little boy out in front of her and studied his features. He bung between her hands, kicking his legs, his bright blue eyes gazing calmly back at her, the twinkle - the mystery still there at the very back of the large black irises. She heard the echo of that deep, melodious voice ' . . . there is no life without death ... life is born again out of every death . . , for some there is no death at all.' Her mind slid backwards to that last moment before he had gone. What had he-whispered at the very end? 330, 4 ... it is good ... I shall not go now I shall always be with you.'- and she knew. She laid Amos down in her lap and looked into those wide, unflinching eyes. The late sun shone upon them, lighting them with a golden opalescence. The mystery moved into the front of his pupils and laughed outright at the recogni~don dawning in her face. She picked him up and held him close, burying her face in the soft baby flesh. She breathed in and filled her nostrils with that special smell of bear oil and warm maa that was only his, 331 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS It is not possible to attempt a book of this kind from a location thousands of miles from research facilities, unless the writer is backed by an efficient resources team. In the writing of this book, I have been blessed by a great deal of kindness, interest and co-operation wherever I have sought help. My first thanks must therefore go to Mr Stanley Gillam, Librarian of the Lon don Library, who sent me volume after volume of rare books without a sign of nervousness over what the mail might do to them en route. In Plymouth, Massachusetts, I had my greatest surprise. Aware that a novel is hardly to be considered a work of serious historical impact, I approached the Mayflower Society, Pilgrim Hall Museum and Plymouth Plantation with caution, for therein lay all the data I could possibly need, a treasure trove of detail which made my mouth water and which, I was sure, must be guarded by ferocious Guardians of the Truth. Guardians of the Truth they have certainly proved to be, but I am deeply grateful for the courtesy and real interest shown me by all three societies. My thanks go to Mrs Stuart Hall of the Mayflower Society from whom I was able to learn valuable details of my Pilgrims; to Mrs Charlotte Price, Curator of the Pilgrim Hall Museum whose library and exhibits unlocked so many doors for me, and to James Baker, Librarian of Plymouth Plantation, and Pat, his wife. Jim suffered me to haunt the library at the Plantation and to dog his footsteps for the greater part of fourteen days - and still aff orded me endless kindness, new ideas and interest in the angle I have chosen to present the Pilgrims from. My thanks also go to Linda Jeffers of the Wampanoag Summer Camp for entertaining me for a day in the tribe's wigwam, and for suffering without complaint the fusillade of questions I had to ask; to Mrs Ruth Alden Devitt, who gave up so much of her time to drive me round the area and down to Cape Cod so that we could walk where the Pilgrims had walked; and to Michael H. Weaver who spent 332 hours patiently trying to din a little astro-navigation into my uninathematical female head; and to Mrs Mai Parsons who had me to stay with her during my visit and spoiled me with kind- ness and comfort. Finally my special thanks goes to Mrs Anne Hollinrake who typed the final draft of the manuscript and righted all mistakes. There have been many others to whom I am greatly indebted and who, in their different ways, con- tributed so much to the writing of this book-. DIONE GORDON FINLAY, MALTA, OCTOBER 1978 333 Henry Edwards SGT. PEPPER'S LONELY A 0352303603HEARTS CLUB BAND Joy Fielding 0426188330 THE TRANSFORMATION' BIBLIOGRAPHY Plyr~ovth Plantation, Vols. I & 11, William Bradford Mourts Relation, Edward Winslow The New English Canaan, Thomas Morton The English Ancestry & Homes of the Pilgrim Fathers, E. C. Banks Families of the Pilgrims, Massachusetts Society of Mayflower Descendants Plymouth Colony Wills, Inventories 1620-1640, Pilgrim Hall Museum Three visitors to early Plymouth, Sydney V. James jun4 Debts hopeful and desperate, Ruth McIntyre The Master of the Mayflower, Henry Justin Smith Give me a ship to sail, Alan Villiers Mayflower Remembered, Crispin Gill Religion of the North American Indians, Paul Radin First Encounter: The Indian & The White Man, Chandler Whipple Occasional Papers in Old Colony Studies No. 2, Catherine Marten (Plymouth Plantation) Doctors and Disease in Tudor Times, W. S. C. Copernan A Thousand Notable Things of Sundry Sorts, Thomas Lupton, 1578 Gerards Herbal, Marcus Woodward Medicine at Plymouth Plantation, Dr J. J. Byrne Arbers Herbal 1470-1670, Agnes Arber Religion and the decline of Magic, Keith Thomas 75p* 95p* Terry Fisher 0352396857 IF YOU'VE GOT THE MONEY 701) Ken Grimwood 0352395273 BREAKTHROUGH 75p* Robert Grossbach A 0352304979 CALIFORNIA SUITE 75p* D. G. Finlay 0352301880 ONCEAROUNDTHESUN 95p* Peter J. 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