by Mike Rhynard
A cheer rose from the shallop, drowned out the Savages’ taunts. Cheven said, “Maybe that’ll give ’em some respect for English longbows . . . filthy jackanapes.”
After the encounter, Roger Baylye decided that even though they had held their own and the two wounded men would recover, the risk of losing the shallop or having more people injured or killed outweighed the benefit of several more days of marginal fishing. He therefore halted fishing, except for crabbing and oyster gathering from the shore with guards present; but with seeming inconsistency, he allowed salting operations to continue. He then ruminated about his decision—admitted they needed both food and salt, decided they could manage without more fish but could not manage without additional salt to preserve the meat and fish they would harvest at Chesapeake for winter, noted that the shallop could row or sail from the east side of the island to the outer banks undetected by the Savages to the west—concluded that the greater need justified the risk.
Thomas and Emily Colman placed their belongings with those of the Dares at the baggage marshaling point for loading and transport to Chesapeake on the second voyage. While Ananias and Thomas spoke with several other men, Emily walked to Elyoner’s cottage to say her goodbyes.
Staring pensively at Elyoner, Emily watched her nurse Virginia, imagined herself doing the same as soon as they were all safely at Chesapeake. She thought of her excitement that very morning when she’d expressed several solid streams of milk, then hoped the time would go fast, that the two remaining voyages would be uneventful, that the Chesapeake would be everything they so desperately needed it to be. She then thought of her lost locket, felt a prick to her heart as she admitted she’d never see or hold it again. The day before, she and Hugh Tayler had searched vainly; concluded that someone had stepped on it, forcing it into the ground beneath a clump of grass; realized it was gone forever. She felt she’d betrayed her mother’s trust, knew the pain of its loss would remain long after they were reunited in a few short months.
With a spacey, unseeing look on her face, she thought of George then of Hugh Tayler; she felt an anguished tightness inside, a tightness born of aggravated frustration over her relationships, frustration because she was loved but unable to return that love in like manner.
Elyoner said, “Emily! Are you asleep with your eyes open, girl? I’ve been talking to you for ten seconds . . . you haven’t heard a word.”
Emily shook her head quickly as if to wake herself. “Oh. Sorry, Ellie. Too deep in thought, I suppose.”
“I see that. And what troubles you, my dear friend?”
“Men . . . two men . . . both of whom say they love me and want to marry me, and neither of whom I’m able to love in return . . . at least not in the same way they love me. I told the first I love him as a friend, and the other that I may love him but am not yet sure. Both vowed to wait as long as it takes, and I’m here thinking ’tis all far too fast.” She shook her head. “ ’Tis so frustrating, Ellie. Why is this happening to me . . . and what am I to do?”
“Well, the first part’s easy . . . because you are who you are: a beautiful, intelligent . . . and yes, sensual young lass who doesn’t know she’s that way, which, of course, makes you all the more attractive. By the bye, many women go a lifetime without such attention. So that’s the why of it. But the what to do part is more difficult, and I don’t have an answer other than to follow your heart and your mind and let it unfold with time.” She knew George had made no secret of his adoration of Emily, and she was very comfortable with the thought of him and Emily together someday, but Tayler was a different song. She realized she’d just frowned when she thought of him, quickly cast a smile, wondering if Emily had noticed. Elyoner wished she hadn’t heard the gossip about Tayler before leaving England; she wanted desperately to tell Emily but had no substantiation of the hearsay, so refused, in spite of her intuition, to interfere with what could be an innocent, fulfilling relationship. On the other hand, she thought, what if it is true? Then she’d be saving Emily from an unsavory, perhaps dangerous, situation. What to do?
“I saw your hard look, Ellie Dare. You must have been thinking of Hugh and the secret you know about him. Please, Ellie, what is it? Honestly, it could be something that would sway me, change my thinking. I wish you’d tell me and let me bear the burden instead of it tormenting you.” She knew it had to be serious, or Elyoner would have told her, but she also knew the noble Elyoner would never tell her unless she was sure it was true, and concluded such was the case.”
“You’re too perceptive, Emily Colman. But forsooth, ’tis not something I’d feel right talking about because I’ve no idea if ’tis true, and I refuse to be an instrument of slander if ’tis in fact false.”
“But what if ’tis true, Ellie?”
“Em, this is very difficult for me, and I don’t know what to say . . . and I feel horrible talking about it because it’s agitated you so and made me feel small and petty. So I beg your indulgence and beseech you to forget I mentioned it and—Ow! This one’s sucking me dry.” She glanced at Virginia. “She’s a greedy one, and young Henry Harvie has an appetite, as well. So I’m probably more excited about you nursing next week than you are.”
“I doubt that, Ellie. I’m so very excited. May I hold her for a while?”
“Of course.”
She handed Virginia to Emily, who laid her on her shoulder and started burping her. “Don’t fret about your secret. I understand, and I respect your judgment in not wanting to tell me. Meanwhile”—she smiled at Elyoner— “I’ll just continue being tormented and wondering what it is.”
Five minutes after Elyoner had laid Virginia down for a rest, Emily said, “Well, Ellie. You’d better get some rest, as well. Tomorrow will be a long day for the four of you. I’ll miss you, my dear friend, though we’ll only be apart for five days.” She extended her arms to Elyoner, who took her hands, pulled her into a tearful embrace.
“My Emily. I shall miss you, too . . . more than you’ll ever know. Though we’re all excited to escape Roanoke, there may yet be much danger ahead— the voyages are not without risk, and what awaits us at Chesapeake is something only God himself knows.” She held Emily at arms’ length, looked into her stunning eyes. “Be safe, my friend. Virginia and I shall await you.”
Emily’s heart and mind churned with anxious emotion while a flutter of foreboding tickled the pit of her stomach; she slowly pulled Elyoner toward her, and the two kissed on the cheek, quickly hugged again. “Goodbye, my friend. Fare thee well.”
“And thee, as well,” Elyoner said, rubbing her eyes.
Emily turned, walked out the door, wondered if she’d ever see Elyoner again.
Emily and her father had been asleep for two hours when someone scratched on their cottage door. Thomas Colman continued snoring, but Emily stood, walked to the door. “Who is it?”
Elyoner said, “ ’Tis I, Em. I must speak to you urgently. I’m so sorry to wake you, but ’tis very important.”
Emily quietly opened the door, slipped outside in her smock. “Ellie, what is it? Is something wrong with Virginia?” Even in the moonlight Emily could see that Elyoner’s eyes were red from crying, her face strained with anxiety.
“Emily,” she whispered, “I couldn’t sleep, been crying all night, agonizing . . . agonizing about telling you what I heard of Hugh Tayler. Even though it might be false, I can’t keep it from you any longer. Your safety may be at stake. “
A chill raced down Emily’s spine. “Ellie, what is it?”
Elyoner took a deep breath, rubbed her eyes. “Father told me before we left England that Hugh was . . . was on the run from something, that he had to leave England; but he never told me why, and I’m not sure he knew. Father didn’t want to bring him, but someone higher up insisted. I didn’t think much of it until the day we departed England, when I overheard that young sergeant, Johnny Gibbes, talking to another soldier.” She took another deep breath.
Emily’s eyes were taut with concentration, lip
s pursed.
Tears welled in Elyoner’s eyes, rolled onto her cheeks. “Emily . . . I feel so terrible telling you this.”
“Go on, Elyoner.”
“He said . . . before Hugh was in the army, he . . . he forced himself on a young lass, made her pregnant, then beat her, abused her in other ways . . . then abandoned her when she was on her deathbed, and ran away. Oh, Em, I’ve been so afraid for you when you were alone with him. But”— she held her shoulders, looked into her eyes—“ what if ’tis not true? What an awful thing for me to say about someone.”
Emily shook her head repeatedly back and forth; tears filled her eyes as she embraced Elyoner, held her tight, spoke in a broken whisper. “My dear, dear friend. Thank you for telling me. I know how difficult it was. But now you’re free of it, and ’tis my burden to deal with, as it should be, and deal with it I shall. Thank you, Ellie. I love you, my friend. Now get some rest.” She felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her, but another dropped in its place. How can I ask him? What will he say? What can he say? What will he think of me if ’tis not true? What will he do if it is true? My Lord, please help me know what to do.
As Elyoner nodded, started to walk away, she stopped, turned and said, “Em, please be careful.”
The pinnace and shallop returned from the second voyage on schedule, two days before the third voyage was to depart, reported an uneventful trip and smooth disembarking of people and equipment. The two pilots, John Hemmington and Peter Little, reported that the new village was laid out about a hundred yards from the Chesapeakes’ village and that work had begun on cottages. Since winter was near, they had decided to build grassmat cottages, as at Roanoke, and then replace them in the spring with either bark-covered lodges like the Chesapeakes used or perhaps more permanent log buildings. Unfortunately, while grass mats were the quickest pathway to shelter, they were the least effective at holding a fire’s heat, and with only a smoke hole in the roof rather than a chimney, the fire had to be kept at a modest level to prevent rising sparks from igniting the grass.
Soon after the boats arrived, Roger Baylye, the remaining Assistants, and Sergeants Myllet and Gibbes held an impromptu meeting at Myllet’s request. As a veteran of many battles, Myllet had learned to trust his instincts; and they now pummeled him with discomfort at the fact that only half of their total number remained at Roanoke, including but a third of the soldiers. The fishing incidents with the Savages further aggravated his discomfort, for he recognized that the colony’s obvious reduced strength had emboldened them. So when the group assembled in Baylye’s cottage, Baylye immediately turned the meeting over to Myllet, who spoke somewhat nervously of their vulnerability, strongly urged the Assistants to change the departure plan and leave the island as soon as possible rather than on the planned departure day.
Baylye, who’d had similar discomforting feelings, immediately saw the wisdom of Myllet’s proposal, put it to a quick vote, which passed unanimously. They would consolidate equipment and belongings that very afternoon, start loading an hour before first light, and be on their way by early morning, a full day before the planned departure. As the meeting adjourned, Baylye asked one of the Assistants to tell John Cheven to quickly gather a few men to take the shallop to the outer banks and retrieve the salt crew. He then asked another to assign young Robert Ellis the task of carving CROATOAN on the large tree on the pathway between the shore and village. The lad had done a sharp, legible carving of the word on the palisades post, and Baylye wanted him to do the pathway carving, as well.
It took five gallons of seawater to yield four cups of salt; and the task of producing it was labor intensive: the water had to be held at a boil for hours and frequently stirred, which meant firewood had to be pre-positioned so it could be fed to the fire as needed, to maintain the boil until the water evaporated and the residual salt was the consistency of wet sand. Then at the end of the day, before the shallop returned the crew to Roanoke, the salt was bagged and driftwood collected and stacked to dry for the next morning’s fire.
William Dutton was around the small point to the south of the salt fire, gathering driftwood for the final day’s burning. As he pondered how much he was going to enjoy a few days’ respite from the job, he looked up, gazed down the outer banks to the south. He abruptly dropped his load of wood, shook his head as if to clear his mind, rubbed his eyes, looked again. “By the saints in heaven and God o’ mercy! ’Tis a ship, a big ship . . . with three tall masts . . . too far away to see the colors, but . . . but it must be the governor. My God! Governor White’s returned!” He turned around, ran a few steps back toward the fire, stopped, frowned; can’t be Governor White. He hasn’t had enough time to reach England, gather supplies, and return. No. Can’t be him. But who cares? ’Tis a ship, mayhap a supply ship. Praise God. He started off at a headlong sprint, rounded the point to where he could see the rest of the salt crew. “A ship! A ship! We’re saved! A ship!”
Inside her cottage, Emily heard shouting and cheering, walked outside to see what it was about. Most of the people were gathered in the village center, hooking arms, dancing in circles, singing halleluiah, praising God, proclaiming their salvation. She queried the first person she came to, a soldier, “What is it, soldier? What’s happened?”
“ ’Tis a ship, Mistress. A ship’s at anchor down by the southern outlet to the sea. Not Governor White but some other ship, a supply ship sent by Raleigh, we think. Governor Baylye told us to cease preparing for tomorrow’s departure, said that if the ship’s crew doesn’t come to us this afternoon, he’s taking both shallops out to them in the morning to discuss supplies and passengers who may want to go to Chesapeake with us. Oh, yes, he’s also asking them to transport us to Chesapeake, so we don’t have to squeeze onto the pinnace and shallops. ’Tis a happy day, Mistress.”
“Indeed it is.” Emily smiled at the young man, nodded. “Indeed it is. Thank you.”
Since Elyoner’s revelation, Emily had avoided Hugh Tayler, was unsure what to say to him or how to approach him. She had searched for opportunities to surreptitiously speak with Sergeant Gibbes, query him about Tayler in some roundabout manner, but had found none. Tayler and Emily had crossed paths several times during the intervening days, but each time she had quickened her pace, pretended to be deeply engaged in some task, and told him that perhaps they could talk later.
A while after hearing of the resupply ship’s arrival, Emily proceeded to the marshaling point to retrieve the small bag she had placed there earlier in the day, saw that John Gibbes was alone at the site. He had been there all afternoon preparing the cargo manifest for the next day’s voyage, but because they were no longer departing the next day, he had been crossing off items as their owners retrieved them. When he saw Emily approaching, he smiled at her. “Good day to you, Mistress Colman. And a happy day it is.”
Gibbes always seemed to have a smile on his face and a pleasant disposition, which inspired a broad smile of equal quality from Emily. “Good day to you, Sergeant Gibbes. How’s your task progressing? You look quite busy.”
Gibbes had never spoken to a woman as stunning as Emily, and his knees tried to buckle beneath him as he searched for a response. “Well . . . well, Mistress, most of it’s been collected, and I suppose the owners of what’s left are too busy celebrating to worry about baggage at the moment.”
Emily was tense, uncertain what to say. “Well, I’m here to get my bag and . . . and Sergeant Gibbes, may I ask you about something rather sensitive?”
He assumed a serious, quizzical look, hesitated for a moment. “Of course, Mistress. What would it be?”
“Well, I hope you’ll keep this between you and me, but a friend of mine told me something she heard about Master Hugh Tayler’s background in England and said you might know something of it. I feel terrible asking you such a thing; but you see, Master Tayler and I have been seeing each other, and it’s quite important that I know the truth of this matter because it could affect our relationship. Again, I feel
very awkward and improper asking you such a thing, but ’tis of great importance.”
He frowned, looked around to see if anyone was watching. “Mistress Colman, every time I’ve seen you and Master Tayler together, I’ve wanted to tell you about him, but I didn’t think it proper to do so, me being a soldier and all. But yes, there are things you should know about him, and since you’ve now asked, I’m obliged to tell you the truth.”
Emily bubbled with cautious anticipation. Gibbes clearly knew something, and it wasn’t good, but how could she know if it was true or simply the slander of a disgruntled soldier. No, she thought, he’s not the sort to slander. What he tells me will be truth. “Thank you, Sergeant Gibbes. I’m very grateful to you.”
“Well, Mistress, I’m afraid it isn’t happy news, but for your own good, here’s the story. When Hugh Tayler was—” He suddenly stopped talking and said, “Good afternoon, Master Tayler.”
Emily spun about as Hugh Tayler walked up behind her.
Tayler ignored Gibbes. “Good afternoon, Emily. I see you’ve met Sergeant Gibbes.”
Emily tensed, glared at him with a mix of contempt and fear. “Aye, I have, Hugh.”
Tayler shifted his gaze to Gibbes. “Well, please continue, Sergeant. I don’t want to interrupt.”
“We were just discussing how pleasant it will be to be rid of this island and live where we’re not in constant danger. But we’ve finished . . . and I must be about my duties.” He looked at Emily. “Perhaps we can continue our discussion another day, Mistress.”
“I’d like that, Sergeant Gibbes. I enjoyed the conversation.” She smiled a false smile, told him with her eyes that she was desperate to hear what he knew.