Surviving Jamestown

by Gail Langer Karwoski

  One of the natives pointed at the ships.

  The sailors turned toward the east, and one of them swept out his arm in a large arc to show how far their ships had come across the ocean.

  The natives nodded. Some of them surrounded the rowboats. Their dark hands cupped the metal oar fittings and felt the smooth planks. They chattered as they examined the boat. Sam couldn’t hear the words they were saying.

  Sam looked at the natives’ muscular arms and legs. “They don’t have beards like our sailors, but they don’t look like children,” he whispered to Nate. “They’re tall and broad-chested.” Sam stared at the weapons the natives carried, and his stomach muscles tightened. “Their spears don’t look like children’s toys, either!”

  When the natives turned and walked into the trees, Sam let out a sigh of relief. “Do you think they’ll come back and attack?” he asked Nate.

  Nate shrugged. “They didn’t shout or threaten the sailors with their spears. Our men haven’t even started to load their muskets.” He grinned. “I guess these natives are peaceful enough.”

  The boys waded to the beach and flopped onto the packed sand. “How was the crossing aboard the Susan Constant?” Nate asked. “Is Master Smith still a prisoner?”

  “Yes, but not for long, I think. At first, I wasn’t allowed near him. But now I sleep beside him. And I go along when Reverend Hunt takes him for walks on deck every morning. I think Captain Newport will set him free any day.”

  While the boys talked, the rowboat from the smallest ship, Discovery, approached the beach. A young fellow hopped out and helped drag the boat out of the water. He was as tall and stocky as a man, but his face was smooth like a boy’s.

  The fellow looked around, then headed for Sam and Nate. His stride was long and sure. He pointed at his chest with his thumb and said, “Name’s Richard Mutton. I sailed aboard the Discovery. I’m the page of Master George Kendall.”

  So this is the fourth boy, thought Sam, the one James told us about.

  “Nate Peacock,” said Nate, shaking the fellow’s hand. “And this is Sam Collier. I’m the page of Stephen Calthrop. And Sam here—”

  “I’ve heard,” Richard interrupted. “He serves the criminal, John Smith. My master told me about him,” Richard said. “Aboard the Discovery, they’re saying there’ll be a hanging soon. What’s the use of bringing a criminal into our new colony? As it is, we’ll be surrounded by murderous, heathen savages. We needn’t bring a man we can’t trust to live in our own settlement with us.”

  Sam glared. “My master’s arrest was a mistake,” he said. “He’s no criminal. He never plotted a mutiny.”

  Richard sneered. “Tell that to the hangman,” he snorted.

  Sam balled his hands into fists. “I said Master Smith was arrested by mistake,” he growled. “He’s no criminal, and you better not call him that again. My master will be released any day!”

  “Sure he’ll be released. On a gallows!” Richard gave Sam a nasty smile and puffed out his chest.

  Nate stepped beside Sam. “Look here, Richard Mutton. You don’t know Master Smith or anything about what happened.” Nate’s voice was even. “It was a mistake, that’s all. If Sam says his master is going to be released any day … well, he ought to know. After all, he’s sailing aboard the Susan Constant. And Captain Newport is the admiral in charge of our whole fleet. So there’s no point quarreling. You just heard some things that weren’t true.”

  Richard smirked. “We’ll see.”

  The three boys joined the sailors and helped them carry the water barrels into the woods beyond the beach. Sam didn’t speak another word to Richard Mutton the rest of the day.

  The fleet sailed to the island of Nevis, which had plenty of fresh water. Captain Newport said it looked like a promising place to hunt. “We’ll make camp here for a few days,” he told the passengers. “While I send out some hunters, you may rest and refresh yourselves on land.”

  The sailors pulled the longboat around. Before allowing anyone to board the smaller craft, Captain Newport ordered two crewmen to bring John Smith on deck. The captain looked at the crowd of passengers and announced, “I have decided to release this man. His conduct during the crossing has convinced me that this is a reasonable course of action.”

  Wingfield watched, stiff and silent, as the sailors cut the ropes that bound Smith. Smith rubbed the red, raw skin on his wrists. He smiled at Reverend Hunt, then nodded at the captain and Wingfield.

  Beaming, Hunt rushed to Smith’s side and clapped his hands on Smith’s shoulders.

  Wingfield didn’t move. “You are released from confinement, Mister Smith,” he said. “But not entirely from suspicion. It would be wise for you to remember that there are ample supplies of rope on this ship.”

  Smith’s eyes met Wingfield’s. To Sam’s relief, his master did not reply. Instead, Smith climbed over the rail and stepped down into the longboat. Sam followed.

  As the sailors rowed them ashore, the sun shone on Sam’s face. A light breeze stirred the tips of his hair. Sam couldn’t think of anything that would make the day more perfect. Captain Newport says we have a few days to explore this beautiful island. Then, on to Virginia! Sam thought. And my master is free! A smile spread across his face.

  While they camped on Nevis, the colonists sorted themselves into two groups. One group, which included Stephen Calthrop, surrounded Smith and congratulated him. The other group, which included Richard Mutton’s master, George Kendall, turned their backs on Smith and his friends.

  Although they were not willing to speak to Smith, the men in the second group often spoke about him. When Sam walked by Smith’s enemies, their conversation halted. Sam knew these men were saying things about his master that they didn’t want him to hear. Richard Mutton avoided Sam’s glance and pretended that he’d never introduced himself.

  But the island of Nevis was too intriguing for Sam to dwell on the bad feelings among the grown men. Around the camp-fires, Sam had his first taste of pelican, parrot, and iguana meat. He especially liked the roasted pelican, and he sat near the campfire stuffing himself, meat juices running down his chin.

  Hunting parties brought back alligators and piled them into heaps on the sand. Sam, Nate, and James examined the dead creatures closely. The hides felt hard and scaly, and the long teeth made Sam shiver.

  James wrinkled his nose in disgust and refused to taste cooked alligator. “I’m not going to put the flesh of that loathsome beast in my mouth!” he declared.

  Both the Godspeed and the Discovery had developed leaks during the ocean crossing, and the sailors set to work patching their hulls. After several days on Nevis, Captain Newport decided to take the Susan Constant to explore some of the nearby islands while the repairs on the smaller vessels were being completed.

  The Susan Constant sailed to the Isle of Virgins. In the waters around this island, the sailors caught large sea turtles, enough to feed eighty men for three days. With the hold filled with sea turtles, Captain Newport ordered the ship to return to Nevis to rejoin the others.

  The clear blue sky reflected off the shimmering water. It was a beautiful day for sailing.

  Sam leaned against the railing to watch the green islands pass by. James stood next to him. The younger boy’s face was sunburned, and tiny flakes of peeling skin dotted his forehead. He inhaled great whiffs of fresh air. “The air in these islands is a blessing,” he said. “I believe it was worth braving the horrid ocean to stand on this deck today.”

  Sam grinned. He would not have chosen the word “braving” to describe James aboard ship or shore!

  “Land ho!” called the lookout. “The island of Nevis!”

  The passengers crowded onto the deck to watch as their ship approached the shore. John Smith, smiling broadly, moved forward and stood beside Sam.

  When the Susan Constant glided past the other two ships, Sam waved and shouted. A wooden structure was standing on the beach. A tall, dark structure. Sam squinted at it. What is t
hat?

  The sailors released the ship’s anchor into the water, sending up a splash.

  Smith gasped. Sam followed his master’s eyes and stared again at the wooden structure. Now he recognized what it was—a gallows!

  As soon as the sailors readied the longboat, Captain Newport climbed into it. Master Wingfield and Reverend Hunt took their places beside the captain. Without asking permission, John Smith followed, his face grim.

  Sam clambered down after his master. His mind was racing. A gallows! Who’s going to be hanged? Richard Mutton’s words kept crowding into his head, but Sam tried to brush them away. Those gallows can’t be for my master! he assured himself. The sun beat down fiercely on Sam’s neck, but his hands felt icy cold. He tried to breathe calmly, to think of another logical explanation. Could one of the natives on Nevis have attacked an Englishman? As the longboat neared the shore, Sam could see Stephen Calthrop standing among the sailors and passengers from the Godspeed and Discovery who were assembled on the beach.

  Calthrop hurried to Smith’s side when the boat’s passengers stepped into the shallows. “I don’t know what’s got into them, John,” Calthrop said quietly. “I didn’t even know that anything was afoot until last night. Kendall and some of the others have talked this lot into a frenzy. They claim you’re guilty of mutiny and should be hanged before we reach Virginia. They’re saying there are too many dangers in the wilderness without us bringing a criminal into our colony.”

  Captain Newport, Master Wingfield, and Reverend Hunt quickly joined the other two ships’ captains and some of the gentlemen who were huddled on the beach. It was obvious that they were talking about Smith, because they turned and pointed at him as they spoke. They made no effort to keep their voices down. Sam could hear shouted words above the sound of the waves crashing on the beach.

  Sam stared at the wooden structure. It was a gallows!

  “Gentlemen, we are civilized men. Englishmen!” Reverend Hunt’s voice rose above the others. “Until it is proven that a crime has been committed, we do not punish the accused.” Hunt swung around and glared at each man standing on the beach. “Who among ye hath proof of John Smith’s guilt?”

  Except for the sounds of the wind and the surf, the beach grew silent. Nobody stepped forward to offer evidence against Smith.

  Hunt’s voice thundered as if he stood in a pulpit delivering a sermon. “Hath ye traveled to a distant shore to lay aside the teachings of church and country and become heathens? Hath ye bid farewell to Mother Reason as well as Mother England?” The minister’s eyes were blazing. “Shall ye colonize the New World as proud subjects of King James? As Christian men? Or shall ye strip off these English garments and become savages?”

  One by one, the men lowered their eyes. After a long silence, Captain Newport ordered two of the sailors to dismantle the gallows. Then he looked at Smith, who met his gaze without blinking. The captain cleared his throat and announced that the fleet would be leaving the island of Nevis the next morning.

  Sam’s knees were wobbling, and he sank onto the sand. Before leaving England, he had heard many tales about the dangers of this journey. He had heard about sea serpents lurking deep in the ocean. About naked savages who howled like wolves. About fierce winds that blew ships over the edge of the earth. Sam had suspected that these tales were all nonsense, and he was right. None of them had proven true. Yet there were dangers that Sam had never considered. His countrymen had built a gallows and planned to hang one of their own Englishmen!

  The fleet set off again on April 4 and sailed around a large island with jagged mountains surrounded by green forests. On the seventh of April, the ships reached a much smaller island, called Mona. Captain Newport wanted to replenish their food and fresh water before leaving the West Indies, but he was nervous about the reports he’d heard about Mona’s natives. Newport selected a group of gentlemen as a landing party and ordered them to get iron helmets and breastplates and assemble on deck.

  As Sam and James helped the sailors carry weapons on deck, they listened to Newport briefing the landing party. “Gentlemen, there are reports that Mona’s natives have attacked English sailors.”

  James shuddered and glanced at Sam. The sun was already high in the sky, and Sam felt sweat roll down his back.

  “The natives are clever,” Newport continued. “They wait until the Englishmen leave the safety of their ship’s cannons. They use poisoned arrows, so it’s important that you wear your armor at all times when you leave our ship. Each of you will carry a gun and a sword, and you should be prepared to use them.” Newport paused and looked at the faces of the men. “If we are attacked, we must fight to the death, gentlemen. These natives are cannibals. They eat the flesh of the men they capture.” James dropped the iron helmet he was carrying.

  The gentlemen began to mutter among themselves.

  Sam edged close to James and whispered, “Cap’n Newport said the natives are afraid of our cannons, James. We’ll be safe aboard the ship. And don’t worry about the landing party—the gentlemen are wearing heavy armor. Nothing will happen to them.”

  Newport ordered all hands and the other passengers to remain on the ships until the landing party returned.

  The sunny morning turned into a sweltering day. Sam and James stayed on deck, preferring the scorching tropical sun to the baking heat below.

  At dusk, Captain Newport and the others returned to the beach, and the sailors rowed out to get them. Sam and James watched as the men unloaded two wild boars and some iguanas on deck. They were surprised to see them bring aboard an extra set of armor. The boys listened as one of the men explained that the armor belonged to Edward Brooks, who had collapsed and died during their six-mile march through the jungle.

  “Edward’s fat melted within him because of the island’s great heat. We were not able to relieve him,” the man said. “Indeed, many of us were fainting in the march and thought to die alongside him. Considering the great extremity of the countryside, I think it good fortune that only one of our party was lost.”

  James turned to Sam, his eyes wide. Sam heard his own heart pounding in his chest. An Englishman is dead and buried, he thought, and our ships have not even reached Virginia! Sam liked to say that he was never going to return to England, but he hadn’t thought of dying in this new world.

  They set sail again, and two days later, the ships reached the island of Monito. Captain Newport ordered the sailors to drop anchor, and John Smith, Master Wingfield, and several other gentlemen volunteered to go ashore. Sam asked if he could go with his master, and Captain Newport nodded.

  Wingfield beckoned for James to follow him into the longboat. Although James hesitated at first, he got into the longboat and sat beside his master.

  For nearly an hour, sailors maneuvered the small craft along Monito’s coastline, looking for a place to approach the shore. Waves slammed the boat around wildly, threatening to dash it against the sharp boulders jutting out from the island. James edged away from the side of the boat, and his knuckles turned white as he clutched the seat.

  After several attempts, the sailors finally reached a stony ledge, and the passengers scrambled out and struggled up a steep, rocky slope. The sound of the pounding surf wiped out all other noise until they reached the top. When at last they entered a grassy meadow framed by bushes and trees, Sam was astonished by the racket. Thousands of birds surrounded them. As he tramped through the grass, birds’ eggs smashed under his feet. Brightly colored little birds hopped and darted out of his way. Overhead, birds flew as thick as hail. Their twittering made it nearly impossible for the Englishmen to converse.

  The party entered the woods, and John Smith positioned himself beside a bush. Birds chattered in the branches, hopping only inches from his arms. Suddenly Smith grabbed one, snapped its neck with a twist, and dropped it into a sack. The others followed Smith’s lead. Standing quietly beside the bushes, each man could catch a bird every few minutes.

  Sam and James imitated Smith’s te
chnique and found the birds surprisingly easy to catch. Sam caught three of the little birds and twisted their necks, but he did feel sorry when the pretty creatures went limp. Unlike the chickens on his family’s farm, these birds were as colorful as embroidered pictures. He made another grab and missed. Nearby, James caught one bird after another, snapped their necks, and tossed them into a pile at his feet. James’s small hands moved as swiftly as owls swooping after field mice.

  In a few hours, their group collected enough of the little birds to fill up two barrels.

  That evening, the cook prepared the birds, skewered them on sticks, and passed them out to the colonists, who roasted them over fires. Each tiny bird was only a few mouthfuls, but the meat was soft and tender.

  That night, when Sam curled up on his blankets, he ran his tongue along his teeth to dislodge the bits of roasted meat. Molly, the ship’s cat, hopped on top of him. She kneaded his side, pricking him with her claws. As soon as the cat settled down, Sam closed his eyes. He thought about how the longboat had nearly been wrecked on the sharp rocks of Monito. Picturing the island’s colorful, noisy birds, he drifted into a fuzzy sleep. In his mind, he was sailing toward a sparkling island—rocky and full of dangers. The images blended until the island took flight and became a bird soaring above the ocean, above billowing white sails on sturdy brown ships. Sam wheeled in a great arc and saw a dark gallows on sparkling sands. As he approached, natives began to shoot poison-tipped arrows. The Englishmen couldn’t fight back because they were boiling to death inside their armor.

  Sam jerked awake. Sweat oozed down his chest. He shook his head to clear away the nightmare’s frightening images. Molly nuzzled his hand.

  When I was a small boy, Father often praised me for my courage, Sam thought. I’ve never been afraid of the dark. Or of high places. I didn’t feel the least bit frightened when Father told me that he was sending me to serve a man named John Smith, who would take me across the sea to a land that few Englishmen have ever seen.