by Zugg, Victor
Mato, his back on the ground, struggled to hold another native at bay.
The foreign native was something Mason had never seen, even in the movies. He wore only a loin cloth. His upper body and legs were painted in patterns of red, yellow, and white. His face from just under his nose to the top of his head was painted or stained a bright red. A patch of what looked like long-haired fur of some kind, dyed an equally bright red, covered the very top and partially down the back of his head. The fur stood straight up.
Mato held a knife in his right hand, but it was restrained with the native’s left hand around Mato’s wrist. The native held a colorful battle club in his right hand, restrained by Mato’s grasp of the man’s wrist. With the heavier and taller native on top, he used his weight to Mato’s disadvantage. Mason could tell Mato was tiring and would lose the fight if no one came to his aid.
With no one else in sight, Mason took a few quiet steps to his right which would give him a clearer shot and a better angle at the native’s back. While still behind partial cover, he raised the bow, drew the arrow to its full length, took a second to aim, and let loose.
The arrow struck with a dull thud. The foreign native immediately arched his back.
In that second of weakness, Mato whipped himself over taking the man down to his side. He jerked his knife hand free and slammed the knife deep into the man’s chest just below his left arm pit. The native dropped the battle club and went limp.
Mato jerked his head up as Mason stepped into the small clearing. Mato sheathed his knife without wiping the blood and retrieved his bow lying on the ground nearby. Without saying a word, he glanced around as he pulled Mason back into the denser scrub. He knelt as he pulled Mason down to his knees. Mato placed a hand on Mason’s shoulder.
He realized in that moment that something had changed between himself and Mato. Since he had no idea how he should respond, he just nodded.
Mato motioned for Mason to follow as he rose and stepped off in a crouch back toward where Mason had left Manny, Nathan, and Travis.
The three survivors were where Mason had left them along with Mato’s three remaining braves. Everyone rose to their feet as Mato and Mason approached.
“Tashunka?” Mato grunted to one of his braves.
The brave shook his head and said a few words that Mason couldn’t understand. He figured the brave was elaborating on their friend’s death.
“Who were those guys?” Travis asked, still visibly shaken.
“Lenni-Lenape,” Mato said. “Five-Nations from north. Raiding party.”
Mason had no idea who or what constituted the Five-Nations, but he nodded as though he did.
“Are they gone?” Nathan asked.
Mato swept his extended arm in a wide arc. “Still here.”
“I think he means they are still in the area but scattered,” Mason said. He turned to Mato. “Do we need to worry about them?”
Mato dipped his chin one time indicating the affirmative. “We take Tashunka to village. You follow.”
“I think we should return to our camp. If those warriors are in the area, they might stumble on our people.”
Mato grunted at his three braves.
One of them, the largest of the three, retrieved the lifeless body of their friend, threw him over his shoulder, and then fell in between the other two braves as they all stepped off toward the northwest.
Mato lingered for a moment. He pointed to his own eyes and ears.
“We’ll be okay,” Mason said. “Sorry about Tashunka.”
Mato turned and started off to catch the other braves.
When the Indians were out of sight, Mason swung his gaze to each of the three men staring at him. “I’ll take point,” he said to Manny. “You bring up the rear but stay close and keep your eyes and ears on your six and the flanks.” He turned to Nathan and Travis. “Put your feet where I put mine. And don’t make a sound on our way back.”
The two men nodded.
Mason held up his bow and motioned to the spear in each of their hands. “Don’t hesitate to use those if the need arises.”
The two men’s expressions turned even more serious as they each nodded.
Mason started off toward the southwest with Nathan, Travis, and Manny in tow.
◆◆◆
“How can you tell us to stay calm when there’s a band of savages that might be approaching as we speak?” Mildred asked.
Standing in the midst of the survivors, Mason turned to Mildred. “If we panic, we’ll make mistakes.”
“Unfortunately, it may not matter what we do,” Tom Green said from his reclined position on a palmetto mat. He adjusted his splinted leg. “I’m stating the obvious here, but we don’t have the means to repel any sort of attack. A couple of braves would do it.”
Everyone looked around at each other and mumbled.
“Mason is armed,” Manny said. “And the rest of us are not helpless.”
Mason glanced at Manny and nodded. “He’s right. We’re not helpless. We need to take a proactive stance.”
“What does that mean?” Nathan asked. “With everything else we’re dealing with, we’re supposed to fight a war with the Indians.” He huffed and shook his head. “We should get the hell out of this place.”
“For one thing,” Mason said, ignoring Nathan, “we need a twenty-four-hour watch. At least two people on duty at all times. It also wouldn’t hurt to build some defensive barriers. Limbs and brush would do it, and maybe some of those cabbage palm trunks we’ve been cutting down.” He took the spear from Manny’s hand and held it up. “And we need to construct more weapons.” He handed the spear back to Manny and nodded toward the spear Nathan still held in his hand. “Can you make more of those?”
Nathan examined the spear. “Sure, why not?” He peered at the spear again. “Except for the stone point.”
Mason nodded. “We need to do what we can,” he said, as he looked around at the faces. “Where’s Lisa?”
“Lisa, Angie, and Bobby are fishing,” Gail said, as she walked over and sat next to Tom. She checked the bindings on his leg.
Mason saw everyone’s face look toward something behind him. He turned and saw Lisa, Angie, and Bobby walking toward camp. All three were carrying several fish.
“What’s happening?” Lisa asked, as she hung her string of fish on a branch and continued into the group.
Mason went through the story again about the attack on the hunting party right up to the part about establishing a watch system and needing weapons.
“We might be able to get more bows and arrows from Mato,” Manny said.
Mason lifted his chin in Manny’s direction. “Tom is right, at least to a degree. It’s only a matter of time until one or more unsavory characters come upon this camp. The Lenni-Lenape, as Mato referred to them, will be even more worked up than they already were. But there could be others, even the white hunters and trappers of this time.”
Dorothy cleared her throat. “The Lenape were aligned with the Iroquois, a northeastern tribe that was really composed initially of five separate tribes—Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga, and the Seneca nations. The English referred to them simply as the Five Nations. They’ll be referred to as the Six Nations when the Tuscarora join, if they haven’t already.”
“Why are they way down here in South Carolina?” Karen asked.
“Branching out to new territories,” Dorothy replied. “What Mason encountered this morning sounds like a small raiding party. Probably less than ten braves out for targets of opportunity.”
Mason motioned to Manny. “Can you organize teams to work on defenses and weapons? And watches should start tonight.”
Manny nodded.
Mason placed a hand on Dorothy’s shoulder and guided her away from the main crowd. “Do you have any idea what year we’re in?”
Dorothy pondered the question for a moment. “Best guess, probably late seventeenth or early eighteenth century. We don’t have enough information.”
Mason twisted his lips as he contemplated her information. “And the Lenape, do we need to worry about them?”
“I would say that right now, that’s our biggest worry.”
“Okay,” Mason said, as he stretched his neck and shoulders. “We should get busy.” He walked over to where Manny was talking to a group of men.
He turned to Mason. “Most of the women will continue to concentrate on our food situation.” He waved his hand at the fourteen men standing in front of him. “Nathan and a few others will work on weapons. The rest of us will start setting up a perimeter.”
Mason nodded. “Let’s do what we can today, but tomorrow morning I think you and I should return to Mato’s village. We need more information about what we might be facing.”
Manny nodded in agreement.
CHAPTER 8
Lisa woke to the sound of muffled voices outside the hut she shared with Angie, Mildred, and three other women including Karen. She opened her eyes and glanced around at the dim interior. Everyone was there except Karen and it was her voice she thought she heard outside. As Lisa stepped through the hut’s opening she saw Mason and Manny walking away from Karen and Dorothy. “Where are they off to?”
Karen and Dorothy turned in unison.
“The Indian village,” Dorothy said. “Should be back in a few hours.”
“In the meantime,” Karen said, “we still have a camp to maintain and people to feed.” She turned in an arc scanning the edge of their camp against the forest. “The men will be working on weapons and defenses; we will gather food as usual.”
Angie stepped from the hut and stood next to Lisa. “Let’s get a bite from the pot and head out,” she said, as she stepped off in the direction of the central cooking pit.
The fire had reduced itself to simmering coals overnight, but the pot of stew hanging overhead from a tripod still emitted wafts of steam.
“It will just be you two,” Karen said. “Bobby has perimeter duty. Maybe you should hang in camp today.”
Lisa paused for a moment looking back. “We won’t be that far away. If we see anything weird, we’ll come running.”
After walking the mile or so along the beach to their regular fishing spot, Lisa and Angie stopped at the water’s edge and surveyed the area. Satisfied there was no one around, they turned inland along the sand to the back side of the spit of land the beach had become. The inlet opened up to a body of water about a hundred yards across. A small stream emptied into the pond on the back side from the swampy forest.
They both eyed the static fish trap a few yards into the water that Bobby and the two of them had built shortly after their arrival. The design was Bobby’s idea. The trap consisted of a series of sticks stuck side-by-side into the sand and muck bottom to form a pen. The sticks protruded from the water’s surface about three feet, so the ends remained above the surface even during high tide. The trap backed up to the shore which formed the rear barrier for the trap. The sides extended from the beach out into the water several yards and turned to join in the middle leaving a narrow opening. The opening angled in toward the shore making it easier for fish to swim in but more difficult to find their way out. It was a good design, well constructed, and best of all, it worked.
Every morning the three of them found at least a few fish inside the trap. Sometimes there were many more. Fish from this trap had become the camp’s main source of protein.
As usual, Lisa stripped off her jeans and her long-sleeve shirt which left her in a lacy bra and panties. This was her routine even when Bobby was around. She didn’t do it at first, but as the days went by and she got to know and trust him more, she felt comfortable enough to strip rather than get her jeans wet. They took forever to dry. Bobby was always a gentleman around her and treated both she and Angie like daughters.
Angie remained in her flight attendant’s navy blue skirt even though the hem got wet as she waded into the water.
The first step each morning was to close off the trap’s narrow opening with a makeshift door slid into the sand. Angie took care of that.
With the door in place, Lisa waded into the water within the trap to survey the day’s catch. She saw several large fish. They were of different varieties, but all were edible according to Bobby who was an avid fisherman in his former life.
Initially they had fashioned spears and tried to jab the fish, but they found that the sharpened points just bounced off their bodies. Then they tried weaving a net of sorts from palm fronds, but found that didn’t work either. The fish were too fast. They finally found that just bending over and scooping the fish onto the bank with their hands worked the best.
Angie joined Lisa inside the trap. Working together they herded the fish toward the shallower water, scooped, and repeated the process. Sometimes they were successful, sometimes not, but they kept at it until they had all the fish they needed or at least as many as they could catch.
After putting the day’s catch on stringers made from strips of the yellow raft, they put the fish back in the water to keep them fresh. As was their routine, Lisa and Angie spent some time ensuring the trap was sound, reseating any sticks that had worked their way loose, and adding more sticks to any spots in the walls that threatened to open up.
As they worked, Lisa caught sight of movement from the corner of her eye in the direction of the beach. She focused expecting to see Bobby coming around the bend. The realization that it was Nathan walking toward them sent a jolt of anxiety through Lisa’s body. She began wading toward her jeans and shirt which were draped over the limb of a scrawny tree on their side of the pond.
Before she could make it onto the shore, Nathan stepped in front of her. “I just came to check on you girls.” His eyes gazed up and down Lisa’s body.
“Where’s Bobby?” Lisa asked, trying to hide the anxiety she felt.
“Back in camp,” Nathan said.
“Why aren’t you back in camp?” Angie asked, as she stepped up next to Lisa.
Nathan shrugged his shoulders. “Taking a break. Like I said, thought I would check on you two.”
“We’re fine,” Angie said. “You can go back now.”
Lisa started to move toward her clothes, but Nathan took a step to block her way. “I thought we could get to know each other a little.” He ogled Lisa’s body again.
Lisa knew perfectly well what he wanted; she just didn’t know how far he would go. But she did know one thing for sure; she couldn’t just stand there with her wet underwear clinging to her skin.
Suddenly, Lisa faked a move to the left but skirted to the right when he shifted his weight. She was nearly past him when an arm shot out and grabbed her around the waist. She twisted and tried to slap him in the face, but he blocked her hand with his own. She tried to wiggle free but his arm just tightened around her waist. That’s when she heard a loud whack and felt his arm release as he sank to his knees. She looked back at Angie and saw her standing there with a large diameter limb from the fish trap in her hands.
Nathan reached up, felt the back of his head, and examined the red liquid on his fingers before falling over in the sand.
“I think you killed him,” Lisa said, as she bent down.
“Nah, he’s just dazed.” She pointed at his face. “See, his eyes are twitching.”
“What do we do now?” Lisa asked.
Angie waded into the water, replaced the limb in its spot in the fish trap, and turned back to the scene on the beach. She shrugged her shoulders as she exited the water and knelt next to Nathan. She put two fingers on his neck. “Pulse is okay.” She bent closer and cocked her ear toward his mouth. “He’s breathing.” She stood up. “He’ll wake up on his own. We should probably head back.”
“And just leave him here?”
“Yeah,” Angie said. “He’ll need time to cool off when he wakes up.”
Lisa threw her hands in the air and stood. She slipped into her jeans and shirt, grabbed the fish, and the two of them walked away.
; ◆◆◆
“The little bitch clocked me in the head,” Nathan said, as he stood in front of Mason.
Lisa and Angie stood at his side. The rest of the survivors surrounded the four of them.
Nathan felt the back of his head and extended his fingers in Mason’s direction. His fingers were colored with mostly dried blood.
Mason turned his head to Gail.
“He’ll be okay, but he’ll probably have a headache for a day or two.
Mason rubbed his face slowly with one hand as he gazed at Lisa and Angie.
“He was being a jerk,” Angie said. “There’s no telling what he would have done had I not hit him with the stick.”
Lisa nodded.
Ever since the encounter on the plane he knew Nathan would be trouble. He just didn’t know to what degree. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much Mason could do about this particular situation. His actions toward the girls really weren’t serious enough to warrant serious repercussions, other than the crack on the head he had already received. The fact was, no matter what his intentions might have been, he didn’t get very far. “How far did you get with the spears?” he asked Nathan.
“What!” Nathan exclaimed. “That’s it?”
“Yep,” Mason said. “That’s it.”
Nathan’s eyes bulged and his face turned red. He spun around and stormed off.
Mason turned to Lisa and Angie, took hold of their shoulders, and guided them a few steps away from the crowd. “I’ll keep an eye on him. You two should do the same. And when you’re away from camp, make sure you take Bobby with you.”
Lisa and Angie nodded.
“For what it’s worth, you did the right thing.”
“Anything we need to worry about?” Karen asked, as she walked up with Dorothy.
“I’ll try to keep him busy,” Mason said.
“How was the trip to the village?” Dorothy asked.
Mason pointed at four bows and an equal number of quivers full of arrows next to his hut. “Mato said the Lenape’s attacks are mainly directed at his tribe. Apparently they are arch enemies or something. Their intentions toward the colonists vary. Normally peaceful, but my assistance to Mato probably complicates things a bit. We should keep our eyes open and our guard up.”