The Sot-Weed Factor

by John Barth

  “A name? Aye, ’twas Henry Burlingame!” Ebenezer laughed like one deranged and leaned over toward the old king, on whose face was the piercing, great-eyed frown of an osprey or fishhawk. “Henry Burlingame!” he shouted again, and tears dropped down his cheeks. “You’ve heard of him, have you, murtherer? Or is it thou’rt Burlingame in disguise, and here’s another of thy famous pranks?” Hysteria brought him to the edge of a swoon; his jaw slacked open, and he, was obliged to sit heavily on the ground before he fell.

  Another sharp query from Chicamec.

  “Who is this Henry Burlingame?” translated the Anacostin King. “A friend of yours?”

  Ebenezer nodded affirmatively, unable to speak.

  “One of these here?” Quassapelagh asked. “No? In the white man’s towns, then?”

  The affirmative brought more excited Indian-talk from old Chicamec, in reply to which, when it had been translated for his benefit, Ebenezer explained that Burlingame was his former teacher, a man of some forty summers by his own best guess, made in ignorance of his actual birth date, birthplace, and parentage.

  One last inquiry Chicamec made, without recourse to language: his whole frame shaking with consternation, he fetched a charred stick out of the fire, drew with it upon a clean deerhide mat the symbol III, and raised his terrible questioning stare to the poet again.

  “Ay, that’s the one,” Ebenezer sighed, too weary in spirit to share the troubled surprise of the others. “Henry Burlingame the Third.” And then, “I say, Quassapelagh, how is’t he knows my Henry?” For it had only just occurred to him that in all his tutor’s years of adventure and intrigue, it had been Burlingame’s policy never to employ the name he was raised by. The question was duly translated, but instead of answering directly, the ancient Indian—the malevolence of whose countenance was supplanted altogether by fierce astonishment—directed two guards to fetch a carved and decorated chest from one end of the hut and place it directly before the bewildered poet.

  “The Tayac Chicamec bids you open the chest,” said Drepacca.

  Ebenezer did so, and was surprised to see nothing evidently breathtaking among the contents, which so far as he could discern without rummaging about, consisted of a number of black garments (whose obviously English manufacture led him to observe that the little chest itself, beneath its Indian decoration, was the sort used by seamen and travelers, not by savages), four corked glass bottles of what seemed to be nothing but water, and on top of all what looked like an old octavo notebook, bound in stained and battered calf.

  Chicamec spoke through the Anacostin King.

  “There is a—” Quassapelagh looked to Drepacca for assistance with the translation.

  “Book,” the African said. “A book, there on the top.”

  “Book,” Quassapelagh repeated. “Chicamec bids my foolhardy brother open the book and read its signs.” And he added in the same translator’s tone, “It is the hope of Quassapelagh that my brother will read some charm therein to cure his madness.”

  The poet picked up the volume as directed, whereupon the line of guards behind Chicamec fell as one man to their knees, as though before some holy relic. But Ebenezer found it to be in fact a species of English manuscript-book, penned in the regular calligraphy of a gentleman, but with ink too crusty and crude to be European. It bore on the front page the unassuming title How the Ahatchwhoops Doe Choose a King Over Them and commenced with what appeared on quick scanning to be a description of the Dorchester marshes, perhaps the same island on which the tribe now lived.

  “ ’Tis most intriguing, I concede,” the poet said impatiently to Quassapelagh, “but i’faith, this is no time… i’Christ, now…” He interrupted himself to reread, incredulously, the opening line—Being then our armes bownd, and led like kine to the Salvage towne, some miles inland, I had leisure to remark the countrie-side, through wch we travell’d—and embarrassment, apprehension, and all gave way to recognition.

  “John Smith’s Secret Historie!” he exclaimed. “ ’Sheart, then ’twas no coincidence…” He was thinking of the Straits of Limbo, but his eyes had moved already to the next passages of the Historie; his jaw dropped lower, and his sentence was destined never to be completed, for the substance of the manuscript, and more especially of the Tayac Chicamec’s tale that followed after, were as amazing as anything in Ebenezer’s life.

  For the benefit of his mystified companions he read aloud as follows:

  “It doth in sooth transcend the power of my pen, or of my fancie, to relate the aspect of this place, so forsaken & desolate & ill-appearing withal; a sink-hole it is, all marshie and gone to swamp. Water standeth hereabouts in lakes & pooles, forsooth there is more water than drie land, but most of the grownd is a mixture of the twain, for that the tyde doth rise & fall, covering & discovering grand flatts of mud thereby, and Isles bearing naught but greene reedes & pine-scrubb. When that the tyde runneth out, smalle pooles remaineth everiewhere, the wch do straightway sower & engender in there slyme more meskitoes, then there are beades in a nunnerie, and each meskitoe hungrie as a priest. Add thereto, the entire countrie is flatt, and most belowe the level of the sea, so that the eye doth see this drearie landscape endlesslie on everie hand; the aire is wett & noisome to the lights; the grownd giveth way beneathe the foot; and the water is too fowle & brynie to drink. It is forsooth Earths uglie fundament, a place not fitt for any English man, and I here venture, no matter how that the countrie neare to hand, such as our owne Virginia, doth prosper in yeers to come, yet will no person but a Salvage ever inhabit this place through wch we march’d, except he be a bloudie foole, or other manner of ass.

  “As for those same Salvages, that had us prisoner (thanks to the idiocie of my Nemesis & rivall Ld Burlingame, that fatt clott-poll, as I have earlier discryb’d), they were a fitt reflection of there countrie, being more smalle in stature & meane in appearance, then those others we had incounter’d…”

  Ebenezer looked up uncertainly from his reading, but the faces of Quassapelagh and Drepacca showed no reaction to the words.

  “Moreover,” he read on, “they seem’d less wont to speake, for that, upon my enquiring of them, What nation were they? my captor hard by responded merelie, Ahatchwhoop, wch signifyeth, in the tongue of Powhatans people, that foule aire, that riseth on a mans stomacke, after he hath eate a surfitt of food, and I cd not determine, whether my Salvage design’d to answer my querie, or meant thereby an insult, or other like barbaritie; he wd saye no more. None the less I was pleas’d, that they spoke a tongue resembling Powhatans, for that were I able to converse with them, so much greater was our chance of slipping there halter. For alle there silence, they did use us civillie, and harm’d not any of our companie, while that we march’d. I reflected, that did they meane to kill us, they had done so lightlie upon the shoar whereon we were ambuscado’d, but they did not. Verilie, they cd be sparing of our lives, onelie to take them anon. But to dye on the morrowe, is better by a daye then to dye now, and therefor I did breathe easier, while keeping still alert for a meanes of escaping injurie at there hands.

  “At length we arriv’d at there town, the wch was the rudest I had yet seene, being little save a dozen hovells of sticks & mudd, thrown up on a patch of drie grownd, that rose a hand or two from the swamp. At our approach, eight or tenne more Salvages issu’d from the hutts, ag’d and feeble men in the mayn, and with them the women of the trybe, about 15 in number, and uglie as the Devill. Also, a host of scurvie doggs, that snapp’d & bitt at us from everie quarter.

  “One great fatt Salvage there was, who coming from a hutt, did greet the leader of those that led us thither, with a long harangue, the summe whereof, as I did grasp it, was, that he was no whitt pleas’d at our being fetch’d to the towne. Whereto the leader of our captors (a smalle Salvage, but lowd of mowth) reply’d, that the speaker was not yet Werowance, wch is to say, King, and ought therefore to hold his peece until that the contest was done. That he had captur’d the white-skinn’d men, our selves
, whom he took to be Susquehannocks, to joyn in the contest, the Susquehannocks being greate workers of wonders, and famous warriors. Now, I knewe not what was the contest thus spoken of, nor who was the fatt Salvage, nor yet the smalle one our captor. But I had heard telle, from King Hicktopeake, brother of Debedeavon the Laughing King of Accomack, of those same Susquehannocks, to witt: that they were a great nation far to the North, neare to the head of that vast Baye whereon we sayl’d. That they were much fear’d by the other Salvages, as warriors & feerce hunters. It seem’d to me not a sorrie thing, then, to be mistaken for a Susquehannock by our captors, and so did not trouble my selfe to undeceive them.

  “More argument ensu’d, betwixt the Salvages, they being each readie to give commands to the other, and each loath to obey any, so that I wonder’d, Where was there King? For it seem’d to me, these heathen had either two Kings, or none at all. Just then, a Salvage wench did appeare, from out a hutt, and bearing a vessell of water upon her head, did carrie it across to another hutt hard by. She was, I sweare, the comliest Salvage ever I saw, slight of stature, and prettie of face & forme, and being uncloth’d above the waist, her bubbs did lift most fetchinglie what tyme she rais’d her armes to steadie the vessell. At her appearance, the two Salvages gave over there debate, and gaz’d after, as did my selfe & all my partie, for that she was of such surpassing beautie. Directlie she was gone, they fell againe to quarrelling, over where we shd be lodg’d, and under what guard, and wd have leapt upon each other, had I not interfear’d, and speaking in Powhatans tongue, declar’d my selfe Capt Jno Smith of Virginia, and offer’d them, that we returne to our barge, there being no handie place for us to sleep, and make our waye in peece as best we might. We had no wishe, said I, to impose upon there hospitallitie, or trouble them in the matter of bedd & board. This I spoke in jest, knowing full well, we were where we were not by there invitation, but as haplesse prisoners. The Salvages were amaz’d, that I spoke a tongue wch they cd grasp, and I, in turn, was much surpriz’d, when that the fatt Salvage, so far from shewing displeasure at my proposall, took it up on the instant, and wd have us begone. But the other wd have none of it, we must needs staye for the contest on the morrowe. More dispute follow’d, and at last we were put all in a hut, with scarce room to lie flatt, and the smalle Salvage him selfe, with divers of his troup, sat guard.

  “My companie, understanding naught of all this discourse, were greatlie out of sorts, and grows’d & compleyn’d much, for that they knewe not what wd be our fate, or whether we shd live or dye. Add to wch, we had been taken in the morning, and it was then twylight, but naught had we been given to eate, nor had any of the Salvages eat food, all the daye. Methought this was passing queere, for that the meanest of gaolers is seldom that cruell, that he will not give his charges some thing wherewith to staye there grumbling gutts. Despite wch, I was little troubl’d in my owne mind, inasmuch as from what I had learnt, in converse with our captors, our straits were at worst uncertain. Our keepers seem’d scarce to know them selves what to doe with us, and there confusion I mark’d as a good signe, together with the faction & dispute wch I had witness’d. For where faction is amongst the enemie, the battle is halfe won. Therefore I made my men a little speach, intreating them to be of good heart, and comport them selves as men. But my intreaties were in vaine, they wish’d them selves back in Jamestowne, or better in London, and curs’d the voiage that had brought them hither. Burlingame, as I had foreseen, was lowdest in his compleynts, for all it was he, in my estimation, that by his cowardice had brought us to this passe. I had no love for him, that had done all in his power to thwart me & my explorations, and stir up unrest against me in Jamestowne. I heartilie wish’d him in London, or at the bottom of the Baye, and told him as much. He onelie glar’d at me, and spoke no more, but I guess’d it was in his mind, shd I taunt him farther, to tell the companie some scurvie lie, about Pocahontas & my selfe, as he had oft threaten’d, and so I left him alone. Yet I did reflect, that such a state cd not persist, but must be remedy’d soon, for that faction doth lead still to mutinie, and without my guidance, I was certain all wd perish at the hands of the Salvages, in there follie & ignorance, ere they regayn’d Jamestowne by them selves.

  “Greatlie tyr’d from the dayes adventures, and weak for want of food, they all were soon asleep, maugre there feares & compleynts, and left to my selfe, I undertook to ingage our guard, the smalle lowd Salvage, in conversation, purposing to learn more of our fate, and peradventure to gayn his favour, or to promote the faction I had observ’d.

  “This tyme my luck was better than theretofore; whether by reason that onelie the twain of us were awake, or that he sought to allie me to his cause, the Salvage spake readilie & cordiallie in answer to my queries. I ask’d him, What was his name? to wch he reply’d, it was Wepenter, wch is to say, a cookold, and he was so call’d, for his wyfe being taken from him to the bedd of the old Werowance, or King. On farther questioning him, I learn’d that this same King, called Kekataughtassapooekskunoughmass (wch is to say, Ninetie Fish), had latelie dy’d, and I guess’d it was this same Wepenter, that in jealousie did murther him. The towne then left without a King, and the old King having no heirs save his single concubyne, the Salvages must needs choose a new Werowance from there number, and this they design’d to doe on the morrowe, by a singular means.

  “All the Ahatchwhoops are exceeding smalle in stature, and for that reason doe hugelie envie men of large size, and heavie. They believe, that the more a man can eat, the bigger he will become, and the heavier there King, the more secure will be there towne, against its enemies. Therefore, whenever that a King doth dye with no male heirs, all the Ahatchwhoops doe assemble for a feast, and him who doth prove the grandest glutton thereat, they doe call King over them, and bestowe upon him a new name, signifying the achievement whereby he gayn’d the throne. Thus was the old Werowance called Kekataughtassapooekskunoughmass, for that he did eate ninetie fish on the daye he became there King. And thus, I guess, the folk were fitlie call’d, Ahatchwhoops, for all the rise of belliegass, that must attend the feasting.

  “Such was there curious custom, and when I had learnt it, my owne plight, and that of my companie, grewe somewhat more cleare, albeit I was not certain yet, Why we were held prisoner? But with more speach, I soon learn’d, that there were in the towne two men who were desirous of the throne. Of these one was the King’s assassin, even that same Wepenter, with whom I spoke, and he wish’d to be King, if onelie to regayne to him selfe his wyfe, the old Kings concubyne, that once gone into by the last King, cd then lie onelie with the next. Wepenters rivall was that same fatt Salvage, that had erst harangu’d us, and he was call’d Attonceaumoughhowgh, or Arrowe-targett, for that he was so fatt, and withall an easie marke to hitt. This Attonce too did lust after Wepenters wyfe, that was call’d Pokatawertussan, or Frye-bedd, for the surpassing heate wherewith she did disport in matters of love.

  “Now were it a simple contest in gluttonie, betwixt this Attonce & this Wepenter, then Wepenter wd loose the daye perforce, for that he was but smalle, and Attonce exceeding large of bellie & appetite. But any Salvage, it was there custom, cd enter the lists by proxie, if willing proxie he cd find, and shd his champion then win the field, they wd share the throne & the favours of the Queene, but the proxie wd have no power to command. Thus had they alter’d antient practice, to the end they cd believe that the fattest man maketh the best King, and yet avoyd the consequences of there belief.

  “It was by virtue of this custom, that Wepenter & his fellowes had lay’d hold of us, that we being strange in appearance, and sayling such a curious vessell, he took us for wonder-workers, and was desirous of choosing from our number one to playe his proxie on the morrowe. He declar’d it was Attonces troup, that had shot arrowes from the shoar to drive us off, what tyme milord Burlingame had leagu’d the Gentlemen behind him, to force us ashoar in quest of bellie-timber. Maugre my contention, that the look of the land was hostile. And Wepenter had call’d us Susquehannoc
ks, merely to frighten his rivall out of appetyte.

  “These & many other things I learn’d from this Wepenter, who then read me his conditions, on hearing I was Captain of the companie. To witt: that I was to be his proxie at the approaching feast. That shd I best Attonce in the matter of gluttonie, all my companions wd be freed, and we wd rule the towne conjoyntlie, and share the bedd of Pokatawertussan. That if, on the contrarie, I was beat by Attonce, then I & all my companie must needs dye forthwith at Attonces hands, for such was the custom amongst the Ahatchwhoops.

  “I reply’d, that I was honour’d by his choyce, but poynted out I was slight of girth, and temperate of appetyte, not given to feats of gluttonie. Therefore, if he wd have a proxie, I suggested he choose not me, but examine our companie, and of there number choose the fattest & most gluttonous of aspect, for his proxie. This Wepenter did on the instant, and regarding all my souldiers & Gentlemen, while that they slept, stopt at length over Burlingame, even as I had design’d, and seeing that greate mountaine of dung, spread out & snoring like unto a swine in the wallow, Wepenter did make me a sign, this was his choyce. I commended his wisdome, and assur’d him, that with such a proxie, his victorie was certain, and he wd have at Pokatawertussan on the morrow. Thereupon we smoak’d severall pypes of tobacco by the fyre, and talk’d through the night of many an idle thing.

  “When that I saw the dawn grow light without the hutt, I did wake Burlingame, ere the rest of the companie arose, and address’d him boastfullie in this wise. That I had deflowr’d Pocahontas before his eyes, and had farther layn with Hicktopeakes Queene, what tyme he had abandon’d her for harlot. He then enquir’d, in a fearsome choler, Wherefore had he to heare these things again? to wch I answer’d that even as I had out-done him in manlinesse on these occasions, so was I about to doe againe, for that there was that morn to be a contest, whereof the winner shd lie at his pleasure with a comelie Salvage wench, the dead Kings concubyne. On hearing these tydings, Burlingame grew much arows’d, and with much cursing & gnashing of teeth, did vilifye me, and at length resorted to his antient threat, even that shd I not stand aside this tyme, and lett him futter the Salvage in my stead, he wd straightwaye noyse about, in Jamestowne & the London Co my employer, the truth anent Pocahontas & Hicktopeakes Queene. I did replye, that I car’d not a whitt for all his threats (albeit in sooth things wd goe hard, did my enemies get wind of his foule storie). Besides wch, I declar’d I had no choyce in the businesse, for that the entyre companie, and the Salvage troup as well, had perforce to enter the lists, it being the wont of these Ahatchwhoops, thus to make a pryze of there comeliest lassies. He enquir’d, What manner of contest was it? and upon my telling him, that he won the mayd, who eat the hugest quantitie of food, he was entyrelie pleas’d, and did sweare, he wd eat twice over what any Salvage cd, & thrice what I or any of our companie might eate. That he was insatiable of appetyte, and had eat no food for two daies, and hence was certain to win the faire mayd. I did rejoyn, that tyme wd prove his boast, but for my selfe, all I car’d was that some one of our companie be victor, and not the great fatt Salvage of yesterdaye, for else we shd ail be put to the speere. Moreover, that shd he win the test, and so save all our lives, not onelie wd he enjoye the prettie peece with all my blessing, but I wd let bye-gones be bye-gones, and never againe bragg of my conquests, or his owne deficiencie. Farther, that I wd arrange matters with Pocahantas, that he shd trye her favours, when once we return’d to Jamestowne.