by Paul Clayton
The little, round Englishman named Fenwick and the big Englishman named Philip came over. “The ship is overcrowded,” Fenwick said to Bright Eyes. “We will have to bury him ashore.”
Bright Eyes told her mother what Fenwick had said. “Aieyee, “ said Green Bird Woman, looking up at the fat little Englishman, “he’s as light as a small child. What difference will he make?”
Bright Eyes translated and Fenwick answered, “I am sorry. There is not enough room on the ship. All the dead will be buried or thrown overboard.” Fenwick and Philip picked up the blanket to carry Sees Far to the boat.
“They are taking Sees Far,” Green Bird Woman shouted to the others. “The Englishmen are taking our eyes!”
People crowded around the Englishmen blocking their way. They set the body down in frustration.
Two Clouds and another of the Old Men walked over and the people parted to let them through. They knelt beside the body and spoke with Bright Eyes.
Samuel came over to Fenwick. “What happened?”
The little Englishman glared over at the crowd of natives. “The old wizard died, but they won’t let us bury the body.”
Two Clouds stood and turned to Bright Eyes. “Tell your Englishman we will not have Sees Far’s ghost wandering this place alone. If he stays, so do we.”
Samuel understood most of what the old man said. His face was pained and drawn as he turned to Bright Eyes. “The old man stays. But tell them all that we must go in the morning when the tide has risen. This is Calling Crow’s wish.”
Bright Eyes relayed Samuel’s words to the others. Then she went and got a large basket. She and Green Bird Woman picked up the old medicine man’s blanket-wrapped body and placed him in the basket. Then Green Bird Woman went back to the rail to take up her vigil.
Bright Eyes looked down at the basket and fear threatened to overwhelm her. There were so many dangers, and so many little ones and frail old people. Now they had lost their keenest pair of eyes. Aieyee! Would they also lose their chief, Great Spirit? She, too, turned round to look at where the trail brought them out to the beach. She prayed that her father would come back to them soon. With Sees Far gone, they needed him now more than ever!
Samuel stood beside the helmsman’s cowl and looked out on the throng of Indians lining the decks. Many of them still kept their vigil at the rails, hoping to see Calling Crow. Sadly, Samuel realized he probably would not return. Like the old sorcerer who had just passed away, Calling Crow also seemed able to see into the future. Perhaps that was why he had insisted they not wait for him.
A mild breeze washed over the ship and Samuel shivered. Despite the relative warmness of the early winter weather, he wore a thick woolen Contempt cape, for his ague had returned. Unable to sleep, he had gotten up with the dawn. Their predicament was not good. Although the sound was ten feet deep on average, and could accommodate the, there was a sandbar in the channel that sounded at only seven or eight feet at high tide. With the added weight of all the Indian people, the Contempt was drawing too much water. They would go when the tide was at its highest and hope and pray for the best.
The day wore on, the tide rising, but there was no sign of Calling Crow. Many of the Indian people began singing their songs of lament. The wailing assailed Samuel’s ears, seeming to make his fever worse. He leaned back against the rail dizzily.
Someone shook him. It was Fenwick. “Are you all right, m’lord?”
Samuel nodded.
“We have to go now,” said Fenwick. “William tells me the tide has peaked.”
Samuel shielded his eyes from the painful, glaring light. He looked over to where Bright Eyes sat with her mother. Both women would hate him for this, but they must go. The Timucua could be tracking them at this very moment.
“Get them ready to hoist sail,” said Samuel. “I will bring up the anchor.”
Fenwick moved off, stepping carefully between the Indians.
Samuel waited till the men were in the rigging, ready to unfurl the sails, before giving the order to weigh the anchor. Four men began pushing the capstan round and the Contempt turned slightly as the slack came out of the cable. One of the native women began screaming. Samuel looked over. It was Bright Eyes, pushing her way through the people to him.
Tears filled her eyes as she came up to him.
“We must go,” he shouted, “I am sorry.”
“No, no,” she yelled over the noise of all the activity, “look!”
Samuel looked to where she was pointing. A solitary figure stood on the beach.
“It is Calling Crow!” shouted Bright Eyes. “You must get him.”
Samuel ordered a boat be put out and not long afterward the English oarsmen helped Calling Crow aboard. His side was bloody from a wound and he could hardly keep his feet. Green Bird Woman rushed to his side and supported him.
“It is time to go, Samuel,” said Calling Crow. “They’re coming.”
Samuel nodded weakly and walked over to the helmsman’s shelter where Fenwick, William and Philip stood waiting. Calling Crow and Green Bird Woman followed. The anchor came up and the Contempt drifted a little to starboard as Samuel headed her for the narrow channel.
“Look,” cried Fenwick, pointing to port.
Timucua braves crowded out of the trailhead onto the beach. Some of them ran into the surf up to their waists, but went no farther. Their numbers grew till there appeared to be several hundred of them. Brandishing their lances and clubs with menace, they watched the little ship move listlessly up the slough. Spotting the channel that cut between the two seagrass-covered spits of land, the Timucua began running along the beach toward it.
“We must get through the first time,” said Fenwick, voicing everyone’s fear. “They’ll not allow us a second chance.”
“Philip,” said Samuel, “get forward with the sounding line.” As Philip ran off, Samuel turned to Fenwick. “Fen, get a dozen men and braves up here with muskets ready. If they get too close, give the order to fire.”
Samuel called down to the helmsman as Fenwick ran off. “Turn her hard to starboard.”
The Contempt turned sluggishly in the mild wind as she headed for the channel opening. Calling Crow almost lost his footing and Green Bird Woman struggled to support him. As the little ship approached the bar, the wind died and she slowed, drifting to port and the sandy bank. People screamed as the ship began to lean over. Timbers groaned and a sigh came from the sandy bottom as the hull drove up against the bank.
“Did we stove anything in?” Samuel asked William.
“No, I don’t think so.” William turned and looked back, his thin white hair fluttering in an errant breeze. “But even if we did, it may not matter.”
Samuel turned to look. The Timucua were racing down the sandy spit. They would be within arrow range in another minute.
Samuel looked up at the flaccid mainsail. A spasm of dizziness hit him and he grabbed William’s shoulder to steady himself. “Where’s our bloody wind?” he cried.
Calling Crow put his hand on Samuel’s shoulder. “Take heart,” he said, “Emissee will provide.”
“What did he say?” said Fenwick.
Samuel held up his hand. A moment later a strong, hot wind sprang off the land. The sails filled and the hull slid scratchily away from the bank as the Contempt again began moving.
The dull brown of the sand bar was now visible beneath the water ahead. Philip called back, “Six feet, sir. Hardly enough.”
Samuel cursed. “Six bloody feet it will have to be!”
Picking up speed, the Contempt drove toward the channel. The ugly brown mass of the bar slipped beneath them. With a sickening, scratchy sigh, the ship ground to a stop.
An arrow shattered against the mainmast, falling about their feet. Another arrow ripped into the sail, hanging up.
“Here they come,” said Fenwick.
The Timucua charged down the beach. A mild wind continued to blow, filling the sails uselessly as the ship sat, leaning ove
r slightly.
Red Feather, Fox-Disappears and a half dozen other braves took positions at the rail beside Samuel’s men.
At a nod from Calling Crow, they let loose their arrows into the leading group of Timucua. Several fell, sprawling, onto the sand.
“Fire,” Samuel called. The muskets thundered. Acrid smoke washed by in the warm wind and several Timucua lay bloody on the sand. The others ran over them.
Arrows flit through the air like angry bees. Several Timucua waded into the slough toward the Contempt.
Samuel pulled his sword, looking back at the old people and children crouched down upon the decks. “All their bloody dancing and praying-- for naught!”
Calling Crow hoisted his axe and Green Bird Woman helped him to the rail. No one spoke as the natives closed the distance.
A single wave rushed down the narrow channel toward the Contempt.
“For the love of God!” said Fenwick. “Do you see it?”
Samuel nodded. “It’s the hand of God.”
The water rose ever so slightly and the Contempt began to right herself. With a rasping groan, she slid off the last patch of sand and sailed free.
Calling Crow raised his axe in triumph and his men joined him in shrieking out their war cries. A few errant arrows landed in the sea as Samuel turned the ship. Moments later they were well away under full sail.
Chapter 46
Down inside the ship, Green Bird Woman and Bright Eyes worked tirelessly over Calling Crow. He had fallen unconscious after their escape from the Timucua. For two days they poulticed his wound and attempted to keep him comfortable. Calling Crow drifted in and out of dreams. In one of them, Mary came to him, her little yellow bird sitting on her shoulder. “Beware of the man who wears an arrow in his hair,” she said. “Even though you have killed him, still he threatens you from the grave!” In another dream, Mantua held Calling Crow’s medicine pouch out to him. When Calling Crow reached for it, the ground gave way and he fell down a deep hole to the center of the earth. After a long climb back up, he opened his eyes.
Green Bird Woman and Bright Eyes looked down at him. “Where am I?” he said.
“On the English ship,” said Green Bird Woman. “We are going away.” She took his hand and held it to her face. “To where, I cannot say, but at least we are together once again.”
Calling Crow sat up. His eyes closed involuntarily in pain as he clutched his side. “How are Red Feather and the other braves, and Samuel and the Englishmen?”
Green Bird Woman gently pushed him back down. “Lie back. They are alive. We have poulticed your wound and it has only now stopped running. Soon it will heal if you allow it.”
Calling Crow reached for his medicine pouch. “My medicine is gone! Bring Sees Far to me. I must tell him.”
Bright Eyes came close. “He is dead, Father. He died just before you came back.”
“Did they leave him back there?”
Bright Eyes shook her head. “We have brought him along.”
Calling Crow sank back to the pallet. “Good. Sees Far dead. Aieyee!”
Bright Eyes ran a cool, moist chamois of doeskin along her father’s brow. She got to her feet. “I will go tell Samuel you are awake.”
Two days later Calling Crow was on the deck of the ship, watching the coast slip by. He saw a familiar promontory, then a grove of tall pines. He called to Samuel and the Englishman joined him at the rail. Soon they spotted a little river emptying into the sea. They were approaching the site of Calling Crow’s boyhood village of Tumaqua.
Samuel hove the ship to and dropped the anchor. Calling Crow stayed at the rail, his eyes drinking in the sight of the familiar coast as a flood of memories washed over him.
Despite his weakness, Calling Crow was on the first boat that put off from the ship. Soon he was walking the overgrown paths, kneeling to inspect the faint impressions of the long gone houses, running his hand along the hole that used to be his village’s fire well. His heart was heavy, but at the same time he felt a great hope growing inside him. Things had come full around; his circle was closing and it was good.
Calling Crow directed his people to build their town in a wooded area just south of where his boyhood village used to be. A fire well was dug and the sacred embers taken from the village’s ark and placed inside. People began to build the chokafa over the fire well, and that night the flickering flame of the new town’s sacred fire burned within. The Contempt was unloaded in a day, and after two days several huts were up, fashioned from bent-over saplings and roofed with thatch. Calling Crow and Red Feather had regained much of their strength. Swordbrought, along with several other top braves, led several exploratory patrols in the area and found no evidence of recent habitation. Sees Far’s body was put up in the trees to dry. Later, his bones would be cleaned and properly disposed of, some of them going to chosen braves for their medicine pouches. The Contempt lay at anchor a cable length from the sandy shore and every day the little English boat went out to load more skins, and roots and herbs that Samuel had collected.
Samuel again fell sick with the ague just before the Contempt was fully loaded and ready to sail. He lay in Bright Eyes’s little house near the fire. This time, Bright Eyes’s teas and medicines had no effect and the fever gripped Samuel completely, slowly squeezing his life out.
Fenwick and William sat near Samuel’s unconscious form as Bright Eyes sang a song of lamentation. Samuel cried out and Fenwick and William went close, looking down on him.
Bright Eyes daubed Samuel’s brown hair with a chamois of wet doeskin. Samuel’s eyes opened wide and he stared upward, but appeared not to see them. “Fen,” he cried.
Bright Eyes hung her head and cried.
“M’lord,” said Fenwick, “what is it?”
“Fen, it is cold. Cold! The ice will soon form and we will be stuck.”
Fenwick looked at William sadly. “Yes, m’lord. We should be away.”
Bright Eyes got to her feet and ran, crying, from the house.
“Fen,” said Samuel, “I see it!”
“What m’lord?”
“A circle round the sun!”
“M’lord?”
“The circle has closed.”
After they buried Samuel, the Contempt sailed. When the trades filled the little ship’s sails and she rushed homeward, the Englishmen threw the strange musty-smelling roots and tree bark into the white wake, keeping only the deer hides for sale to the tanning houses. Calling Crow watched the Contempt until it disappeared in the sea. Weeks passed and the little town grew to thirty small houses and a granary. Acorns were gathered and several fish weirs constructed. Red Feather had completely recovered from his beating at the hands of the Timucua, and Calling Crow noticed how the tall, sad-faced brave hovered near Bright Eyes and her little baby, his eyes watchful and protective.
Calling Crow felt good about all these things, but there was still emptiness in him. He knew this was because of the loss of his medicine. Despite this, he grew steadily stronger, and so did the little town. Then an owl took up residence in a tree near Green Bird Woman’s house, calling out every night. Calling Crow’s wound opened and odorous pus issued from it. No poultice or tea that Green Bird Woman concocted could stem its flow. A feeling began to grow inside Calling Crow. Something was coming. Try as he could, though, he could not get the feeling to come quickly, or show itself in the open, and it remained hidden. He decided to seek a vision.
Red Feather and Swordbrought built Calling Crow a platform in the forest, in the highest tree they could find. They helped him climb up to the platform and left him there. Only the winged ones perched nearby remained to keep an inquisitive eye on him. Calling Crow fasted for three days as his platform bobbed and swayed like a canoe upon the sea. Without sleep, he cried out and chanted to his spirit guide to grant him a vision. On the fourth day he collapsed.
Swordbrought had gotten up with the sun. He planned on going to his father, to stand a vigil at the base of the tree. It had bee
n five days now and he was worried. As he headed across the fields toward the forest, a man walked toward him, an old man clutching an eagle’s feather. Swordbrought didn’t recognize him at first. Although his hair was long and he was dressed like one of the people, his skin was light, like the whites, and he was very thin. When the man drew closer, Swordbrought saw the wound in his side and realized the man was his own father. Weeping, he ran to him and put his arm around him, helping him back into the village.
Many people crowded into the still-uncompleted chokafa to see Calling Crow after his vision quest. Calling Crow sat at the head of the people, the Old Men behind him. It was very quiet, only the voice of the sacred fire could be heard as Calling Crow looked slowly round at the assemblage.
“Soon I will die,” he said. A collective cry went up and he raised his hands for quiet. “My life with all of you has been good. But I am glad I am dying now. It is a good time to die.”
“What did you see in your vision?” said a young boy.
The boy’s father scolded him for speaking out. Others in the gathering quietly speculated on what Calling Crow might have seen.
“It is all right,” Calling Crow said to the boy’s father. “I wanted to tell you all what I saw. I saw a time many lives in the future when people will fly through the sky like birds.”
“Aieyee,” said Green Bird Woman in awe, “they will fly?”
Calling Crow nodded weakly. “Our people will be gone by then.”
A deep moan of sorrow rumbled through the chokafa.
“Who are these flying people?” said the boy after a few moments.
Calling Crow’s face darkened as he again thought of his vision. “People of all different colors-- white people, yellow people, black people, and red people. Their square houses will cover Mother Earth like a fungus on a fruit, and their many fires will burn holes in the sky. Birds will die in flight, falling down to earth. Father Sun will grow hotter in his anger, killing the fish, the four-leggeds and many, many people. But then, when things are restored to balance, life will be good once again.”