All was peaceful during the next two days, and the colonists cautiously resumed work. Captain Newport would soon be sailing back to England so the settlers had to hurry and cut down trees to fill the hold with clapboard that could be sold as wall-boards and shingles. Meanwhile, other colonists sowed a field with wheat, and the sailors dug up sassafras roots for sale in England.
Sam and Nate were assigned to trim the branches off tree trunks. The weather continued hot and humid, and the boys had to mop their foreheads with their sleeves to keep the sweat out of their eyes. Even in the late afternoons, when the sun dipped behind the tall trees, it was uncomfortably warm. Mosquitoes took advantage of any shade and buzzed around Sam’s sweaty eyes. Mayflies stung his neck and arms.
While they worked, Sam kept alert for strange noises. All the colonists expected the Indians to attack again. They just didn’t know when it would happen.
For the next few days the colonists saw no signs of Indians, and they made great progress with their work. Some of the men thought the Indians were so afraid of the English guns and cannons that they had given up, but Newport continued to post guards wherever the men were at work.
Sam hoped there was another reason for the calm. He hoped the Indians they’d met on their expedition—their allies—had come to the defense of the colony. If Nauirans and our other Indian friends have heard of the attacks, they’d organize a war party to defend us. Although these thoughts comforted him, Sam didn’t voice them. He was not nearly as confident of the Indians’ friendship as he wished he was.
Several days later, Eustace Clovell died from his wounds. After he was buried, the colonists quietly resumed work. Each man prayed that Clovell would be the last of their number to die at the hands of the natives, but most of the settlers suspected that Indian attacks were going to be a constant threat in Virginia.
In the afternoon, the colonist on guard duty in the woods spotted five Indians in the distance. Two of them seemed to be unarmed, and they shouted, “Wingapoh!” The other three carried bows and arrows. The guard shot at the Indians, and they ran away.
“The guard shot at them?” cried Sam when he heard about the incident. “Those Indians were our allies! They were saying ‘Wingapoh’ to show they were our friends!”
“Be reasonable, Sam. The guard wasn’t on your expedition,” Nate said. “How was he supposed to know that those Indians were our allies? Besides, how do you know they were really friends? Maybe it was a trick. The savages have crouched in the bushes waiting to attack when we leave the fort. They’ve even hidden below the walls of our fort and shot at unarmed men wishing only to relieve themselves! How can we trust any of the Indians?”
Sam didn’t know what to answer. But he thought about their friendly Indian guide, Nauirans, who had smiled at him when they were aboard the shallop. He remembered the gentle woman who offered him bread. Then he pictured Eustace Clovell, writhing with pain as the surgeon pulled the arrows out of his bloody body. Sam shuddered at the thought of little James Brumfield, lying dead with an arrow sticking out of his neck.
The Susan Constant and Godspeed were almost packed to return to England. The smallest ship, the Discovery, would be staying at Jamestown. On June 10, Captain Newport met with the council to resolve various complaints about conditions in the settlement. During the meeting, Reverend Hunt requested that John Smith be placed on the council.
“That was the expressed instruction of the Virginia Company, gentlemen,” Hunt said. “Now that we’ve reached Virginia, I think the wisdom of the company’s directors is evident. John Smith has demonstrated that he is both an able and a resourceful leader.”
None of the settlers, not even Master Wingfield, argued.
Newport thanked Hunt for bringing up the matter. He praised Smith’s behavior during their exploration. “Smith is the type of man who can be depended upon in the wilderness,” Newport said. “I’m convinced that the council will benefit from his opinion. The man learned how to deal with heathens in Turkey, you know, and he has a knack for communicating with natives.”
Sam was as delighted as his master about the council’s decision. At last, he thought, the men have come to their senses and put aside hard feelings from the voyage.
For a few days, work at the fort continued peacefully. But on June 13, two Englishmen were ambushed by eight Indians hiding in the long grasses. One of the colonists was seriously injured by an arrow that lodged in his chest. This new incident reminded everyone to be watchful.
The next day, Sam and Nate were sent to help cut trees for clapboard. At noontime, they wandered away from the men to search for wild strawberries. As they stooped to gather the fruit, Sam spotted two brown-skinned men walking through the trees. “Look, Nate!” he cried. “Indians!”
Nate’s face turned white, and the boys looked around frantically for cover.
They were about to run to the settlement when Sam recognized one of the Indians. He waved and shouted, “Wingapoh!”
The Indian waved back and called several words in greeting.
“That’s the Indian who traded with us, Nate!” Sam said. He approached the men, but Nate stood back, watching.
Sam told the Indians about the attacks on the fort. Turning to Nate, he said, “Go get Captain Newport. If we bring these men any closer to the fort, the guard may panic and shoot.”
Nate soon returned with Newport and Master Wingfield. “Welcome. Wingapoh! Ally.” Newport said to the Indians. He pointed at Wingfield. “This man is a chief of our people,” he said. “His name is Master Wingfield.”
They exchanged greetings, and Newport repeated Sam’s story about the attacks against the colonists. The Indians listened with serious expressions on their faces. The trader clasped his left arm with his right hand to show that the Indians would come to the support of their friends. He promised to speak to Chiefs Arahatec and Parahunt.
Then the Indian trader knelt and swung his hand as if to cut the long grass.
“Cut?” asked Master Wingfield, trying to understand the Indian’s meaning. “Cut down the tall plants. Yes, of course!” Wingfield looked at Newport. “Do you understand what this fellow is saying, Captain? He’s telling us to mow down the high grass around our fort so the wicked savages will have no place to hide. An excellent suggestion!”
Wingfield beamed and nodded his agreement. “Thank you, my good fellow.” he said. “I’ll have the men get right on it.” He shook his head and chuckled. “Cut the grass—clever idea! It’s a wonder none of us thought of it ourselves.”
Word of the visit from the friendly Indians spread quickly among the colonists. Early the next morning, Newport sent Sam and Nate, Richard Mutton, and a group of sailors to cut down the high weeds and shrubs blocking the colonists’ view of the area surrounding their tents.
The boys were assigned to clear a swath of ground north of the tents. It was a sticky morning, and the hot sun promised to burn through the mist.
“Nate and I will start on this side, Richard,” Sam said, motioning for Nate to follow him.
“As you like. It’s all the same to me.” Richard shrugged and moved away.
Sam and Nate took up the scythes and cut away the tall grass near a thicket of trees and shrubs. By midmorning, the sun was beating down on Richard, but Sam and Nate were under the shade of the trees. Richard’s face turned bright red, and he had to stop every few minutes to mop his forehead with his sleeve.
“Curse the savages!” he muttered. He straightened up and squinted at Sam and Nate. “Cut down the weeds, indeed! We may as well cut down the clouds for all the good it’s going to do. The whole place is weeds!” Richard threw his scythe onto the ground. “If it was up to me, we’d cut down the savages, not the weeds,” he grumbled. “We’ll break our backs cutting these weeds, and we’ll be too exhausted to fight. This is just more treachery. For all we know, those braves are planning to come back and ambush us. They may be hiding in the trees, right now, aiming their bows and arrows at us!”
&nbs
p; Sam stood up. “Keep quiet, Richard,” he said. “Those Indians are our allies. They’re going to carry word to their leaders and help us defend our settlement. I met one of them—the trader—when Master Smith and I went with Captain Newport to explore the river.”
Sam couldn’t help gloating as he told Richard about the Indian trader. “If your master had been chosen to go on the expedition, then you would understand that the Indian trader is our friend. He brought bushels of food to barter with us. He told all the villages along the river about us. His people even came and guided our boat.”
“I heard about how they guided you,” Richard sneered. “They guided you away from the fort, so they could ambush us when our numbers were low. If your master had a lick of sense, he would have noticed how the savages kept delaying you. How they wouldn’t let you come back down the river to the settlement. Friends—hah! They’re murderers. Bloodthirsty wolves!”
Sam balled his hands into fists and ran at Richard, but the larger boy pushed him off and heaved him onto the ground.
“Stop!” Nate shouted. “Stop fighting! The captain sent us out here to clear the weeds, not argue.” Nate came up behind Sam, grabbed his shoulders, and dragged him out from under Richard’s big fists.
Sam jerked around and yelled at Nate, “You heard him say Master Smith has no sense. He called our allies bloodthirsty wolves!”
“I heard him, Sam,” Nate said, pulling his friend by the arm. “Richard has a big mouth. But we have work to do.”
“Nate, you don’t believe what he’s saying?” Sam protested. “Do you?”
“Perhaps I do, perhaps I don’t know what to believe,” Nate said. “Indians have attacked us again and again, Sam. You’ve seen them with your own eyes. Didn’t they kill James Brumfield? Didn’t they kill Eustace Clovell?”
“Are you saying that Master Smith hasn’t any sense?” Sam demanded.
“I’m saying that the Indians told us to cut down the weeds, and I think that’s a good idea. So that’s what I’m going to do.” Nate paused. “I’m also saying we don’t know enough about Indians to judge whether they’re friends or enemies. Any of them—even that trader fellow.” He picked up his scythe and swung it hard through the weeds.
The boys worked in angry silence the rest of the day.
On June 16, all three boys were assigned to make clapboards by splitting up tree trunks. They worked at the riverbank so the finished clapboard could be loaded easily onto the Susan Constant and the Godspeed. In late morning, an Indian canoe crossed the broad river, heading toward them. The guards began to shout, and Captain Newport ran to the edge of the water.
“Wingapoh!” the braves called and waved from their canoe. “Wingapoh!”
Captain Newport waved back at the Indians and answered, “Wingapoh!”
“Want me to fire above their heads to keep them out of arrow range, Cap’n?” asked the guard. “I don’t trust them savages coming close to the fort.”
“No, don’t fire,” Newport said. “I’ll get into the shallop and meet them on the river.”
Newport hastily ordered some of the sailors to row him out to the Indians. Sam, Nate, and Richard joined the men on the shore. Although they were too far away to hear Newport’s words, they saw him gesturing. After a short conversation, the sailors raised their guns and pointed them at the Indians. The Indians quickly paddled back across the river, jeering and laughing.
When the shallop returned, Newport was fuming. “It was a trick!” he shouted. “They took me for a fool! Those savages were masquerading as our friends. Tried to get me to bring the shallop around the point, where it couldn’t be seen from the fort. Said their king wanted to meet with me. But the water is too shallow for a boat out there. When I accused the scoundrels of lying, they started to laugh.”
Richard edged close to Sam and said in a low voice, “Another visit from your friends, huh, Collier? Why don’t you go tell Master Smith to come down here and trade with those friendly Indians, since he knows so much about them from your expedition?”
Sam wheeled around, and Richard smirked.
“I never said we should trust every Indian.” Sam spat out his words between clenched teeth.
Richard ignored him and walked off.
I never said we should trust every Englishman, either, Sam thought as he glared at Richard’s back.
7
The Seasoning
The settlement was completely enclosed by the third week of June 1607. Sam felt safe inside its sturdy palisade, which was made of split tree trunks standing side by side to form rough walls. The sharpened tips of the trunks were three times as tall as a man. The palisade enclosed a triangular-shaped piece of land overlooking the James River. A raised platform stood at each corner inside the walls. On each platform, a cannon was mounted and positioned to shoot at enemy vessels, such as Spanish ships that might come up from the bay or Indian canoes coming from either direction. Since the palisade was rounded around the platforms, the shape of their fort was a triangle with a half-moon at each corner.
On the morning of June 22, Sam carried to the Susan Constant the letters that his master and many of the gentlemen had written. Captain Newport would have this mail delivered when he reached London. After handing over the letters, Sam said good-bye to the sailors. He picked up Molly, his favorite ship’s cat, and stroked her warm fur.
“How long do you think it will take you to get to England?” Sam asked an old sailor.
The sailor shrugged. “Have to ask the wind and the waves, lad. No use predictin’.”
Sam scratched the cat’s chin and listened to her ragged purr. Then he handed her to the sailor. Wishing the fellow a safe trip, he climbed down to the riverbank.
Nate and the other settlers stood on the bank, watching the sailors set the sails on the Susan Constant and the Godspeed. Clapboard from Virginia’s trees filled the holds of both ships. Two tons of sassafras roots, used to flavor food and make medicines, were stored in barrels aboard the ships. As soon as the ships completed the crossing and docked in London, Captain Newport would sell the cargo, and the Virginia Company would begin to earn money from its colonial venture.
Before he boarded, Captain Newport turned and faced the ninety-eight men and three boys who would remain at James Fort. “Wish me Godspeed, men! As soon as I’ve sold these goods in England, I’ll make ready to return. Look for me to be back in twenty weeks with supplies. And I’ll bring as many new settlers as I can stuff onto the ‘tween deck!”
Sam carried the letters to the Susan Constant.
Most of the men watched in silence as the ships sailed downriver, but Sam and Nate shouted and whistled as they waved. As soon as the ships disappeared around a bend, Sam thought about the long ocean crossing from England to Virginia. He remembered the danger from storms and the possibility of attacks by Spaniards and pirates.
“Do you think Captain Newport really will return in twenty weeks?” he asked Nate. “A lot can happen to a ship crossing the Atlantic Ocean.”
Nate shrugged. “Twenty weeks—that’s five months. It’ll be late November or December before he returns.” Nate avoided his friend’s eyes. “A lot can happen here in Virginia, too.”
John Smith gave a hearty shout, “Back to work, men! When Captain Newport returns, he’ll find we’ve built a fine settlement for Englishmen here on the James River!”
He clamped his hands on Sam’s and Nate’s shoulders and gave them an encouraging smile. Turning to the men, Smith declared, “These two lads are eager to make themselves rich! How about the rest of you?”
Some of the colonists answered Smith with a cheer and headed for the fort to resume work. Others stood in stony silence. These were mostly the highborn gentlemen, who huddled around George Kendall, Richard’s master. Smith ignored the do-nothings. He led Sam and Nate toward the field planted with wheat. “The company didn’t send us here to be farmers. But if we’re going to eat while we’re waiting for the first supply ship, we’ll have to tend to ou
r crop. Our seeds sprouted, but there hasn’t been enough rain.” Smith knelt down and picked up a handful of dry dirt. “I want you to haul water from the river and spread it carefully along each row. The soil is very dry, so take care you don’t wash away the seedlings.”
Sam knew how to water seeds and care for young plants because he’d worked in his family’s vegetable garden in England. But in the glare of Virginia’s sun, this field seemed endless. It was going to be hot, slow work hauling water from the river to moisten all this soil. By the time they managed to water the last row of seedlings in the plot, the first row would be dry again.
Sam knew it wasn’t his place to question his master’s orders, but he blurted out, “What about all the others? Why aren’t they working, too?”
Nate shot an alarmed look at his friend. John Smith was a kind master, but everyone knew he had a quick temper. A master had every right to beat a servant who refused to do his work.
“This plot needs water, lad!” Smith snapped. “We’re going to need every bit of wheat we can grow if we’re going to survive until Cap’n Newport returns with a supply ship. There are some in Virginia who understand these facts. Unfortunately, there are others who need to be convinced. But the seedlings need water now. They cannot wait until every highborn gentleman is ready to cooperate!”
His tone softened. “I’m depending on you. We’ve come to Virginia in search of riches, and I’m convinced we’ll find them—eventually. Meanwhile, we have to eat. We must grow wheat.”
Ashamed of his outburst, Sam grabbed a barrel and rolled it toward the river to fill with water. Sam knew his master was right, but he couldn’t help resenting the men who stood idly beside the river, complaining about Smith and the heavy workload. And Sam couldn’t help noticing that Kendall’s boy was standing as idle as the gentlemen. As Sam and Nate struggled to roll the heavy barrel of water up to the field, Richard snickered at them.
Surviving Jamestown Page 8