by Leah Fleming
My heart was heavy knowing Wim was not going to finish this journey with us. He slept and his breathing was laboured. That night we made a fire as he taught us and sat round watching for the slightest change in his breathing. He was rambling now in his own language as Jan held his hand. I noticed his feet were like ice and knew death would call him home soon.
‘Ya. Ya, I will tell them.’ Jan nodded as if hearing some last request.
Tamar sat with her head in her hands. ‘What will become of us now?’
‘We go on as we have done until we find help.’
‘But there’s snow on the wind. We’ll freeze in this rocky dungeon.’
‘If it be the Lord’s will, then so be it. Better to die in the attempt than to be spit-roasted on some savage’s fire.’ I was cruel to be kind. My fear was as great as hers but I was determined not to show it.
35
We buried Wim as best we could between two rocks and covered him with stones. Jan wept and needed comforting, being just a young lad who had suffered much in his short life. The wind turned icy now and we were glad of Wim’s skins to share out but I felt real fear for us. Our bellies were empty and our minds began to wander from keeping eyes on the rocks in case we fell. My flesh hung loose, my tongue was parched and foul tasting but I kept them walking. When the first snowflakes began to fall I knew we must build shelter or perish. ‘Look for a hollowed-out tree. We can creep into it and hide.’
‘But bears live in trees,’ Jan warned. ‘Keep going.’
‘I can’t go another step,’ Tamar cried. ‘There is no more hope for us. We’re lost and here will we die. There is no way out.’
‘Shut up! If we follow the stream it will lead us out. In the Dales streams lead to becks and then to rivers. There may be caves to hide in among the rocks. Don’t give in now. Look how far we’ve come,’ I pleaded with her.
‘With only a dead man to show for all our effort, better to have stayed safe in the camp, warm and fed. Why did we listen to you?’ Tamar was trying my patience to the limit.
‘That’s hunger talking. Where’s thy faith, woman? There has to be a way.’
That night it snowed hard as we clung together in the lee of a larger boulder. My spirits sank with despair and Jan cried with the cold. Had I led them to die in this barren spot? The snow was gentle but treacherous for it froze with a crust on the top. How could we find a path and why must I now make decisions for all of us?
I tried to imagine Jordan leading his men. They would look to him to keep them safe and encourage them forward into danger. How I longed to see his face again. That night he came to me in a dream. ‘You are for me,’ he shouted and I woke with tears frozen to my face. I was not going to lie in the snow and give in to the sleep of death.
As if to lighten our path next morning there was a quick thaw. Jan found a dead fish but we were too hungry to make a fire and ate it raw with green leaves and the last rotting berries we could spy. It was a race against the seasons now for should the storms come from the north, there would be no hope of us living through them.
Suddenly the stream widened into another small lake with swampy undergrowth that soaked us up to the waist. If the water had frozen over we could have crossed quickly but it was too early for such good fortune.
‘What now?’ Jan paused, looking to me. ‘We swim?’
‘No, we will drown,’ said Tamar. ‘It is too cold.’
For once she was right. ‘We’ll walk all around it again like before,’ I said.
‘Not again, I’m sick of walking and getting nowhere.’ Tamar sat down and refused to budge.
‘Get up! What else can we do? We still are heading east and south. Perhaps there are trappers or homesteads within a day’s march. Sulking will get us nowhere fast.’
‘You go then,’ she muttered. ‘I’m too tired to move.’
‘We all go or none of us do. We’re missing precious daylight. Don’t you want to see thy home again?’
‘What home? My husband and child are dead and the man I live with is a charlatan. Who will care if I return or not?’
‘Jacob will be worrying about you,’ I offered, hoping it would shift her stubborn spirit.
‘Friend Jacob is thy intended. It’s you he wants, not me.’
‘Who knows what that man desires in his wife. Perhaps I am not the right choice for him.’
‘But you’ve got an understanding.’ Tamar looked up, suddenly alert.
‘Aye, but no vows have been taken, no date fixed, nothing that can’t be undone. Besides my mind is not set on matrimony,’ I added. ‘You would make him a better helpmeet than I.’
I saw her eyes light up with hope at this suggestion. ‘Of all the men in Good Hope he has been the kindest to me. Is it possible?’
‘All things are possible if it is the Lord’s will. Now rise and shift thy arse,’ I smiled, knowing I had sewn seeds that might keep her travelling on.
It was a long wearisome journey around the edge of this lake. Then I noticed something about the alignment of the trees and rocks that seemed familiar. When we reached the south side, there was the slope into the water where the men had hidden a canoe. ‘Isn’t this where we crossed in their boat? I’m sure we’re back on the right trail, the one where we lapped the water by the fire. We’re almost home,’ I cried with excitement.
‘How can you be sure?’ Jan said. ‘There is no canoe.’
‘They carried it back on their heads to the camp. If I am right there will be signs of a fire and score marks on the trees as we passed. I lost my shoes somewhere close to here.’ I searched around for evidence but there was none.
That was weeks ago. The snow and wind may have moved everything, I thought to myself. Was it too good to be true? My spirits rose with the thought we might only be a few more days from the settlement. ‘Let’s camp here, catch as much fish as we can and warm ourselves with fire and wash our faces, make ourselves ready. There’s little water on the way back so we must drink our fill.’
This discovery spurred us all on into a frenzy of shelter-making and gathering dried tinder for kindling. Jan made a dam of stones to ensnare a fish. Tamar foraged for yet more greens to boil. We sat round our fire with no thought now of danger as dusk fell, finishing off the skin and bones of the little fish with relish. Who knew when we would eat again? The sleep of exhaustion and relief came to us all that night as we huddled together for warmth.
At first light I woke feeling a draught on my left side where Jan slept. Thinking him out fishing, I lay back content but as I peered out from our shelter I could not see him out by the water’s edge. ‘Jan, Jan Vries?’ I called as loudly as I dared but he did not call back. ‘Wake up, Tamar, Jan’s gone. Something is wrong.’ We brushed ourselves down and went in search of him. Had something snatched him in the night? There were no signs of a struggle, no scuff marks or blood to suggest an attack.
‘What shall we do now?’ Tamar cried, as upset as I was at losing our brave companion.
‘We wait in case he’s wandered out of earshot. He may have gone into the forest hunting.’
‘But what if they have caught him? What if even now they’re waiting and watching on us?’
‘They would not wait but take us all back together and kill us for escaping.’ It was hard to sit and wait all day until the sun slid down behind the hills but there was only silence and the usual sounds of the forest. Frozen with fear and chill, lying in our den like abandoned puppies, unsure of how to make sense of Jan’s loss, we waited on.
‘Perhaps he decided to make his way north.’ Tamar’s suggestion, although reasonable, did not ring true. Jan could have left with Wim weeks ago but they chose to stay together with us in a pack. He needed us as much as we needed him. In my heart I knew he had been snatched and made captive again. I couldn’t bear to think what might be his fate in the hands of those savages.
Fear and disappointment choked me. We would have to retrace the trail from memory but what if we were being watched? Were
they playing a cruel game of hide and seek, snatching us one by one at their leisure?
To be so near and yet far was the worst trial. It took all the courage I could muster to continue without Jan. Hand in hand we left the comfort of our lakeside shelter, searching to find that special narrow trail that had brought us here. Every minute I feared our enemy would leap from the shrubs to silence us forever.
The ground was sodden with no crackle of dry leaves to warn us. We dare not speak for fear of giving ourselves away but crept like forest animals, hiding, alert to every sound.
How long we walked that night I cannot recall but one step at a time we edged away and no one came to take us. Native men knew every inch of this terrain, every nook and cranny while we were strangers unused to fending for ourselves; but the past weeks had changed us from farm hands to forest folk with new respect for this wondrous land with its ridges and valleys. We had known fear, hunger and desolation that many others would never experience. There was a cunning animal manner to our progress, acting like savages, sniffing the wind, creeping out of sight. Starvation made us desperate. There were dead carcasses that we dare not touch. We were no longer the innocent women who had been dragged from their homestead helpless and ignorant. We had seen terrible things and this knowledge could never be wiped from my mind. Yet in all of this there had been some shifts. Mine enemy had become my friend. Tamar regained her voice, her hope and for all her trembling she was a stalwart companion. I thanked God for the comfort of her friendship.
There was no snow that night and the forest floor made a dry enough bed to lie on. We were now bitten, covered in red weals, our skin filthy and black, our hair matted and lice-ridden. No one in Good Hope would recognise us but a good wash would quickly change our outward appearance if we found our way home. I thought of the pistol hidden in the tree trunk and wondered if it would be there to protect us. Had Good Hope been raided? Had the militia come in search of us? Had they given us up for dead?
I was drifting slowly into my dreams when I heard the thud of traffic on the trail; the sound of hooves pounding the ground. We were no longer alone. Sensing danger I shook Tamar awake and we crawled on our bellies under cover to hide. Surely not now, so close to home, they had tracked us down? Had they tortured poor Jan into telling them where we were heading? How I cursed Heaven for this cruel turn of events. A dog sniffed us out, barking at our hiding place. There was no use in trying to escape. We were surrounded by horses and the smell of tobacco leaves. There was nothing to do but pray for a merciful end to all our sufferings.
36
‘Missy, Missy.’ I looked up from my hiding place at a young brave, his cheeks painted in a familiar shade, his head shaven with feathers and quills in the tufts at his crown. ‘You come.’ He gave a loud whoop to announce our discovery. My legs could not move for the terror but he didn’t look like the savage who had taken us. Tamar clung to me weeping. ‘It’s all been for nowt.’
We surrounded by other men staring at us and I noticed they had no scalp locks dangling from their belts. ‘Howdy do, Missy . . . Come.’
Were these kind gestures a trap? We must have looked the most wretched of white-faced squaws stumbling out of our hiding place filthy and scabby, our faces fearful, not knowing our fate.
‘Water,’ I begged and we drank from their water pouches, long deep gulps. Then a young boy gave us something soft and sweet from his sack. I ate it too quickly and brought it straight back. Tamar supped slower and hers stayed down. There was nothing now but to follow them, in silent gloom.
I was certain we were on the homeward trail and I looked for crosses on the trees and for my shoes. We were heading south and that gave me hope that soon we would be back in Delaware country. We came to the clearing we spent that first terrible night of captivity but then we turned off the trail taking a path through dense undergrowth and my heart sank that we were travelling away from the direction of Good Hope.
We rested by a stream and I realised no attempt had been made to tie us together. Perhaps there was a chance to escape. I glanced at the head warrior on his horse in a beaver-skin cloak and round his neck I spied the sign of the Turtle Clan. I had seen these neck pieces many times in White Deer’s village. Were these men of her tribe? Were we among friends? Was it possible we would be safe?
It was dusk when we came to another clearing of huts in the familiar shape I recognised from my visits to my Indian friend.
‘Yuhu!’ the men yelled and faces appeared and suddenly there was Jan grinning and waving. ‘They found you?’
We ran to him with relief. ‘Where were you? Why did you leave us?’
‘I went to find some meat in the forest but I got lost, going round in circles until these men found me while they were out hunting and brought me back, gave me food and drink. I told them where you were resting and they said they would find you. Praise God! We are safe here among these people.’
‘Who are they?’ Tamar asked, shaking her head in disbelief at this good fortune.
‘Lenni-Lenape of the Delaware tribe.’
‘The same as my friend Running Deer and Little Bear. Do you know what this means? We are safe, Tamar.’
Tamar was already asleep where she sat.
The next morning the squaws came with clean skins and took us to the women’s sweat lodge where we sweltered naked beside a steaming fire as they showed us how to scrape off the dirt with a special scraper. They tended our sores and soaked our hair in sassafras oil before washing it by the stream. To feel clean is to feel human. How can I express the tenderness of those women on seeing our fear and frailty. Kindness knows no race or faith. Love belongs to no one belief, for where love is God resides, I reckon.
We were summoned to the chief’s hut and with an interpreter we told our sad story to the elders who listened with interest. The chief sucked his pipe and then spoke.
‘There are good and bad among all tribes in this world. You have been on a strange quest and will want to return to your own people but one word of warning. They have not walked in your steps and I fear they will not want to hear of your sufferings, for shame they were not there to protect you.’
It was Tamar who spoke on our behalf thanking them for all their kindness. ‘Our Friends, the Seekers will want to repay your kindnesses.’
The chief waved his hand. ‘Will they come to greet us as Christians or to make us Christians? We of the Turtle Clan are men of our word. We follow the Great Spirit. It is enough for us to follow our own ways, but we have sent out runners to spread word of your return.’
‘How can we truly thank thee?’ I repeated.
‘Be people who also keep your word and open the door with kindness to all who need it. Keep your eye sharp so you can guide others to keep theirs. Then there will always be peace among us.’
In those few precious days of rest and recovery, we felt a friendship that knew no barrier of language. They helped us prepare for our journey home. Winter was now upon us and soon the snow would blanket us with high drifts and ice. All I could think of was seeing the faces of Friends when they discovered we were safely returned unharmed and that Tamar had recovered her speech. They would be lined up to greet us not with sticks and cudgels like our enemies but would gather us back into the arms of our community.
Most of all I imagined Jordan Thane waiting with arms outstretched to hold me close; but first there would be Jacob to disappoint, Titus to challenge and all that that might entail. The women who had left the township on that bright afternoon in autumn were not the same women who would be returning with terrible tales. Was the chief right to warn us that our coming might not be welcome? Surely not.
We were escorted on horseback down a river trail until we reached the village where White Deer lived. They came out to greet us and begged us to stay for their special deer Feast that heralded the change of season. Desperate as we were to reach home I knew we must honour this gesture of welcome and enter into their ceremonies with an open heart.
Whit
e Deer brought us out fine fur-lined boots to wear. ‘You come back to us,’ she whispered. ‘I said many prayers.’
Tamar tried her best to join in but everything was new to her and she struggled to make sense of their rituals. Jan danced and smoked and spoke in the Algonquian language as best he could. His cheeks were filling out again and there was the start of a beard on his chin. He was no longer a gawky youth but growing into his manhood. He wore a breech cloth and leggings and drew admiring glances from some of the younger girls who kept touching his long ginger curls.
Over the past weeks we had become a little family and it would be hard to let him go north as he must to join his own Dutch kinfolk.
Word had been sent of our return and a party would come to escort us back to Good Hope. What would they make of our native clothing, bony bodies and ragged hair? Would they bring us proper dresses to wear?
How I longed to see the familiar faces of the children and Mary, Joseph and Jacob. Who would be coming to greet us?
There was one person neither of us wanted to meet and that was Titus, alias Thomas Black. There would be danger for Tamar if she opened her mouth to condemn him.
Courage almost failed me when I saw those tall black hats appearing down the track. There were two men on a cart who dismounted to greet us, handing over gifts of shells and tobacco leaves. I saw that one was Jacob.
‘It looks like they are buying our freedom,’ I whispered to Tamar. The formal thanksgiving took some time but not once did they look in our direction or even acknowledge our presence. Perhaps they didn’t recognise us in our native clothes.
We stepped forward to meet them, smiling, but they barely glanced at us. ‘Did you bring us clothing?’ I asked.
Jacob shook his head. ‘We thought you dead so Mary gave your apparel to a poor widow. Fresh outfits will be found: better for everyone to see you as you have been.’ He did not look me in the eye as he spoke, which puzzled me.