Becoming Americans

by Donald Batchelor

  "And we've other friends in Bath, my dear," Anne said, brightening up a little. "Tobias Knight, a member of the Council, lives there. He's a good friend of our patron, William Glover. Some few other church people live there, also. It's not simply a hotbed of pirates and dissenters, my dear. They've a public library, even! There are women who can read!" Anne was a Carolinian, now, and she was eager to point out the developments that were happening in Rogues Harbor.

  Sarah Alice looked through the candlelight to the wrinkled old woman. Her mother had had a long and eventful life, years of happiness, sprinkled with problems and sadness. Times of great love and great loss. Sarah Alice Harrison was called old by some, and she felt it when she thought that she'd lived for thirtyfour years without one moment when her eyes sparkled in the way she'd seen her mother's do in the months the Fewoxes were newlyweds. She'd never buried herself in mourning—other than for the change of clothes and requisite performances of grief when her husbands died. She'd never gone mad at the thought of betrayal and grief. But, now, there was Major Dorsey, and the sparkle had appeared in her newly-wrinkling eyes. Terror gripped her at the thought that Major Dorsey might sail without her. This was her last chance for life! She would go to Bath.

  During the fortnight visit, Anne and her daughter realized that this visit would be their last together, so each did what she could to please the other, while Joseph and Stephen fished and hunted with Edward and Robert. Sarah Alice wore her mother's rockets. She told her mother stories of grand plantation life and of lavish entertainments in Williamsburgh. She helped her mother cut and dry green apples, and she cleaned fish for smoking and drying. She went with Anne to visit Edward's wife, Pathelia, at his surprisingly small plantation. Anne sought to relieve her daughter's boredom by having Sarah Alice invited to the best Anglican homes in Chowan and Pasquotank.

  James Fewox's reputation had not besmirched that of his wife, who was openly and vocally aligned with the pro-Church party. Despite her poverty, Anne was a welcomed guest among those Glover partisans who were still celebrating the arrival of the Queen's cousin as their governor. In preparation for one such party, Sarah Alice had been stunned when Anne opened her chest and pulled out a dress, sleeves, and bodice that would have been fashionable, even, in Williamsburgh. Any of the older Harrison women would have wanted it!

  Salvage, Anne told her. Edward had found it in a ship that was abandoned and floundering off the treacherous Outer Banks. Those dangerous shoals were the graveyard of many ships, she told her daughter. Many people found such goods washed ashore, or, in half-submerged wrecks.

  "The ways are different in Carolina," Anne said.

  Chapter Seventeen

  After the busy visit with her mother and a prolonged, weeping farewell, Edward's sloop was re-loaded and they sailed to Currituck, leaving Joseph and Stephen there at John's plantation. The boat then headed southward, following inside the line of the Outer Banks before skirting the islands and marshes between the mainland and Roanoke Island. Sarah Alice stood by the helm as her brother practiced maneuvering his new boat.

  "Is it here the ghost ships sail?" she asked.

  "So it's said," he replied, looking about.

  "And does this boat have ghosts?" she asked.

  Edward turned his attention to her and laughed.

  "If it does, they're bumbling, Boston fools," he said.

  "Where did you get her, Edward? Your plantation, though busy, could not buy a sloop such as this. I know, the ways of Carolina are different, but…."

  Edward laughed again.

  "The ways are different only in detail, for they lead to the same place as the ways of Virginia. Riches!" Edward said. "I claimed this boat by the law of the sea. She ran ashore on the bank and her crew were all dead of the fever, save two, and they died the same day."

  "And how was that 'the Carolina way?'" she asked.

  "Do you really want to know, Mistress Harrison?" her brother asked, with a twinkle in his eye that reminded her of their mother.

  "I do," she said, very curious.

  "We take an old mare to the top of those high sand hills on the bank, and we wait until night. We tie a lighted lantern about the nag's head, then walk along the top of the hills. Foolish sailors think we're a landing, and they head into harbor and run aground. It's not new with us," Edward rushed on. "The Indians did it before us! The same thing."

  He waited a moment for his sister to react.

  "That's kinder than most!" he declared. "I seen men shoot holes into stuck boats so their owners can't refloat and go on. Now, that's the way to get some booty!" He was warming to his subject. "You know that nice dress Mother wore to the Pollock's last week…?"

  Her brother was beautiful to Sarah Alice. Even when a sickly child himself, Edward had taken care of her. No one ever thought he'd live to grow up, John had told her once. Now he was alive and sparkling, and she had no remorse for the loss of New Englanders.

  "It's a wonderful find," she said. "I hope you'll take Mother something beautiful back from Bath."

  Edward's sloop, the Pine Reward, sailed westward from the inland sea called the Pamticoe Sound, into the broad Pamticoe River. Sarah Alice judged the mouth of the river to be nearly as wide as the Albemarle Sound at Bull Bay. She saw islands, marshes, and large bays on the north shore of the river; the south shore was barely visible. Dolphin swam alongside the sloop, a family of three seeming to race them. If Fewox could build a racetrack for them, he would, Sarah Alice told her brother.

  Soon, the three-mile-wide entrance to the Machapungo River appeared. Edward steered the Pine Reward northwesterly into it, and towards their destination. A gently curved bay on the eastern shore of the river, opposite a point of land on the western side, was the location of Brother Richard's land. His long pier extended into the river to a depth that would accommodate ships that boarded heavy transports of naval supplies.

  To Sarah Alice, the land appeared more a wilderness than that at Scuppernong. Here, there grew almost nothing but pine trees; a desolate, green pine barren where no crop would ever grow, even when cleared of the trees. She despaired that her brothers would never have tobacco land. Tar was a smelly, dirty business.

  Richard, with his wife and daughters, came running down the pier as Edward and his man tied up the Pine Reward. After introductions and kisses, Sarah Alice followed her brothers, her nieces, and her beautiful, French sister-inlaw—whose Irish accent was a surprise to Sarah Alice—back to their house.

  The house was built on high, cedar pilings, and it was obvious to Sarah Alice why this was done. The land was very flat and low, barely above the level of the river. A week of rain would leave the house an island. Dusty trails led into the woods, and a cart path made of logs ran from the pier into the forest. The house, itself, was better than the one occupied by their mother. Richard had always been good with his hands and tools, so he'd built a sturdy, one-room house—with a wooden floor—for his family. A sumptuous meal of shrimp, duck, and venison, accompanied by the good local wine and a fine French brandy, made Sarah Alice less pessimistic about Richard's future.

  "'Tis a wonderful war, Queen Anne's given us," Richard said. "You'd not believe it, but your youngest brother's growing rich! The Crown's placed a bounty on tar, and as much as I can produce, the Admiralty will purchase."

  "But living here, Richard. Do you want your daughters growing up in this wilderness?" Sarah Alice asked him.

  "My wife grew up here," he answered, smiling. "It seems to have done her no harm. And we've a town nearby, you know. Joseph says it's already nearly as much a town as James Town was when he first visited there. Bath is more of a town now, I wager, than James Town is at present! And certain, it is, to become an important port for Carolina. You sailed near Ocracoke Inlet to get here. Easy, rapid access to the ocean, yet impossible to invade by large warships. We've a product, a port…. What more could we want?"

  "A stable government, for one thing," Edward said. "And less fomenting troubles with the Indian
s."

  "Nay," Richard shrugged. "We've no problem with our Indians in Wickham precinct. We've Algonquin tribes. They're enemies of the pesky Tuscarora. What we need is our own county and a courthouse for the Machapungo settlers. Most of the freeholders of Wickham precinct have petitioned for one. That will come about. As we tamed that bear cub, Edward, as boys, we're taming this wilderness."

  Sarah Alice was surprised by the strength and adventuresome spirit of the brothers. They'd not been like that when younger.

  By morning, wind was blowing sand and dust, but Richard was eager to show off his operation. Sarah Alice dressed in borrowed rocket, splatterdash, and boots, and followed her brothers through the smoke and dust into the woods. Twice she saw snakes crossing the path, and deer she saw grazing across a used and burned-down pine forest glanced up, then went back to eating new growth.

  "Jacques Fortescue was her father." Richard answered Sarah Alice's questions about his wife. "He had to flee France when King Louis started his massacre of Protestants. Like many of the Huguenots, they first went to Ireland. Then some of them came to Carolina, most to near Charles Town. A few, like Fortescue, came here, and were the first white settlers in Pamticoe. Jean was born in Ireland, but she grew up in Pamticoe. Like father, growing up in Virginia."

  The wind was blowing from the fresh forest and, again, memories of her youth came with the sharp, clean aroma of the pines. To one side, dead, dying, and scarred trees leaned against each other. In the distance were large, black fields of smoldering stumps. In front of them was the vast, virgin pine barren that was being stripped and drained of its sap.

  "Here," Richard said. "This is how we do it. Much as father did at Deep Creek, but better and quicker."

  "We get the rosin by cutting channels in the standing trees that meet at a point, here, at the foot of the tree. Then, two or three small pieces of board are fitted to receive it. The men cut the channels as high as they can reach with an ax, and the bark is peeled off from all those parts of the tree that are exposed to the sun. The heat of the sun forces out the turpentine, and that falls down upon the boards placed at the root. Then, it's gathered and melted in great kettles to become rosin. To make tar, the men dig out a flooring—down to the clay, and a little low in the middle—where they lay a pipe of wood with the top part of it even with the floor. The pipe runs out about two feet outside the clay floor, and the earth is dug away and barrels placed in the hole to catch the tar when it runs. Then, on the clay floor—look over here—they've built up a large pile of dry pine wood—split into pieces—then covered it up with a wall of earth, but for a little at the top where the fire is kindled. Once the fire is burning—look over there—they cover the hole with earth so there won't be any flame, only heat enough to force the tar down into the floor, through the pipe, into the barrels. The men poke air holes in the fire with a stick, sufficient for the heat to continue. We make the pitch by boiling the tar in iron kettles or, usually, by burning it in round clay holes made in the earth. My problem is barrels. I can't make hogsheads and barrels fast enough! I have to buy barrels. Father would be ashamed of me."

  Richard laughed, and so did Sarah Alice. But she'd heard enough around the Harrison dinner table to know that her brothers were on their way to becoming men of substance. It wasn't tobacco, but they'd be able to purchase tobacco land with their earnings when the war was over. Her mother had always been right about that: in Virginia, Maryland, and even in this wild colony, tobacco cultivation brought respectability.

  When they returned to the house, Old Fewox was there. As he ladled punch, Sarah Alice had to admit that there was still a charm about Fewox, although he was toothless, wore a thinning, old periwig with his coat, and had dispensed with the waistcoat. His courtliness to Sarah Alice reminded her of the old rakes at Williamsburgh dinners. It was quaint, this courtliness, but he was not a man of serious qualities. Those old men seldom were.

  A late-in-life marriage of love. Had her mother felt for James Fewox what she was feeling for Major Dorsey? But her mother had been rash, and the fears of Anne Shaw's friends had largely come true, Sarah Alice realized. Anne's marriage to Fewox had led her to life among the lowest of men—and their women, left her bereft of clergy, and had given her endless days of toil in a land where the women worked and the men played, drank, and slept. Now, Anne lived in one place, her husband in another. For that, she'd confided to Sarah Alice, she was thankful.

  Fewox was a gambling clown, in his old age, taken seriously by no one. In this inconspicuous capacity he'd been brought back to Bath by William Glover. But things had cooled down between factions, and Fewox, now, was relying on less reputable old friends.

  Thomas Carman had come along with Fewox, but Edy was still waiting in Bath. He, Richard and Edward, with Old Fewox, would share in the Machapungo part of Sarah Alice's reunion and farewell.

  Sarah Alice had seen such disfigured men as Thomas Carman before, but those were not to be dealt with as family, certainly. She was put off, too, in seeing Richard and Edward's demeanor change when they were with Fewox and Carman. She realized that her brothers had known these men for many years, but to fall into heavy drink with them, and for them all to trade stories of their heroes—the pirates who plied these waters—caused her a good deal of distress. Edward was promoted in the group; it was obvious to her, when his ownership of a two-masted sloop was announced.

  The men sat on benches at the table: Richard and Edward, Fewox and Carman. Sarah Alice sat on the bed with Jean, while Elizabeth and three-year-old Sally played with their cornhusk dolls and took turns carrying embers to the men as their pipes went out. Tapoc, Jean's old Indian slave, sat on the floor in a corner finishing the beaded deerskin slippers Jean intended for Sarah Alice. Everyone's noggins were kept filled.

  "I'll whip you, I swear it, if those moccasins are not finished before Mistress Harrison leaves tomorrow!"

  Jean Williams was a strict mistress, Sarah Alice thought, and a loud, French one at that. It was her home and her right, Sarah Alice knew, but the old Indian woman reminded her of old Mary Bourne for some reason, and she didn't care so much for a savage's needlework to warrant such harsh threats.

  Sarah Alice drank more of the potent punch.

  Still, it was Jean's right to discipline her own slaves, and her family had owned the old woman since they'd come to Carolina. Tapoc had been part of Jean's dowry.

  "I don't care for your crudeness," Sarah Alice said suddenly and loudly.

  The men at the table stopped and turned to her.

  "Mistress Harrison." Fewox stood up. "Please accept from me…."

  "You're in Carolina, Little Sister," Richard said. "In an older brother's home. If my language is sufficient for my wife, it is sufficient for you," he said.

  "It's not just your words and your curses, it's the subjects you speak of with praise. Defiance of the government. Praise for the pirates. More than praise, adulation!" Sarah Alice nearly slipped from the bed. She'd had too much of their local spirits! She must control herself!

  "Girls, go to bed," Richard said to his daughters. They scampered up the ladder to the sleeping loft.

  "Your patience has been worn thin with all of us savages, has it not, Mistress Harrison?" Richard asked. His commanding voice stopped her as swiftly as it had thirty and more years ago. "You don't approve of how we live."

  "And I'm not alone!" Sarah Alice snapped back, as she always had. "John and Joseph are scandalized by what you're becoming. 'Genuine members of Rogue's Harbor,' they said!"

  "Do you know why, Little Sister, that Aunt Mary Williams sent father's brass plaque to Mother instead of giving it to John, or why John was left out of her will?" Richard asked, knowing.

  "I paid the debt off! It was satisfied! She shouldn't have done that," the drunken Old Fewox said.

  Sarah Alice slipped over and held to the bedpost.

  "Our aristocratic brother was taking Aunt Mary's money and investing it in this despised 'Rogues Harbor.' The bondsmen and slaves h
e bought all died the first year, and the money was lost." Richard hadn't stood, he just leaned forward on the table.

  "And our tipsy step-father, here, saved him. He paid off the debt with one of his easy-come winnings—he doesn't always lose. He's sued John, twice since, for the money, but he's yet to see the money. He needs a new suit of clothes." Richard laughed.

  "A man is judged by his clothes," Fewox gummed.

  Sarah Alice sat in quiet embarrassment over having made such a fool of herself. She'd never drink this local brew again!

  "And you might ought be a little more careful with your accusing Virginia tongue when you get to Bath. We've a different land, here. We've different needs. We have different ways of being governed and of not being governed. You and my Virginia brothers want me to grow tobacco, but your Virginia Burgesses won't let me sell it from there. Well, I'll soon grow tobacco, and I'll sell it. We do things our way, in Carolina," he finished.

  The other men cheered him. His wife cheered him, too, but embraced her sister-in-law and gave her a forgiving kiss on the cheek.