Pistoleer: Pirates Read online

  The only weapons in sight were not so much weapons as tools for fishing. These included long barbed thrusting spears, long barbed arrows, and cudgels. The white man who had directed them here, was waiting to greet them. He called himself Alf Hancock, and he told them that this deep channel to the sea was one of the few places where you could always catch fish no matter the season. This because deep sea fish came up the channel to feed on the smaller fish of the sound. Most of the catch were mackerel, but of a size far larger than those caught around Britain.

  Perhaps it was because this clan included white men, or perhaps because the Swift had not threatened anyone with weapons, that everyone was very friendly. Alf explained that this clan had caught enough fish and so they were packing up to take the catch back to their main village, their farming village at the top of the Neuse River, which was the first large river north of them in Pamlico Sound. He also welcomed them to use this village for as long as they wanted, because the clan would not be fishing here again for a month.

  Everyone was very friendly, that is, until the first of the children passengers tried to step ashore. Suddenly the villagers went wild and threatened the children and their mothers, and it took all four of the white tribesmen to calm them down. In truth, the only thing that calmed them down was when the children were sent out of sight into the Swift's command cabin.

  Now, instead of being friendly and spending time with the folk from the Swift, the natives hurried their packing and loaded their longest dugouts and paddled away. Within an hour the folk from the Swift had the village to themselves, except for the four white men and four native hunters. One was Alf, once of the Isle of Axholme in Lincolnshire, who had lived with this tribe for ten years. Another was his brother Hugh, and Brendon from Ireland who had been here thirty years, and a very old man named Datha who was the grandson of an Irishman who had come here over a hundred years ago. Datha was at least seventy years old.

  After such a swing from friendliness to anger, the passengers from the Swift were uncertain about staying in the now vacant village, especially overnight. They feared a surprise attack in the night from the volatile natives.

  "They will not be back,” Alf told them. "They are afraid of your children."

  "The children?" Anna asked, in shock. "But why?"

  "Because ten years ago it was children that killed most of the people of Pamlico Sound. Or rather children's diseases."

  "Don't be so silly."

  "I'm deathly serious, madam,” Alf sneered. "I watched it happen. Our ship was filled with families that had been cleared from the Isle of Axholme due to the King's drainage enclosures. We wus transported because we wus making trouble and filling in the drainage ditches." On hearing this, Daniel shushed everyone so he could listen. For years his village had been threatened by the King's enclosures in the Fens.

  "We were set ashore on the island of Rawnocke where we were told that there was an English settlement. There were no English, just local Croatan fishermen in their six man dugouts. The ship left in order to search out the Croatan chief, or so they said. They deserted us. Cast us out on a bleak island without the tools and supplies they carried from England for us, and we with women and children to care for."

  Robert spoke out. "But normally with new settlements, doesn't the first ship carry only men, who build shelters and plant the first crops? The women and children are sent only if the settlement lasts a year."

  "We wus transported,” Alf replied, "so our entire village wus on the same ship, including children. For a month we lived off fish while we waited for the ship to return. In those days there were hundreds of dugouts on the Sound, and each day some would camp overnight on the island, but they did not threaten us, for they wanted to trade."

  "Are you telling us that you spread the plague to the locals?" Robert's mind was leaping ahead of the story.

  "No, not us, and it was not the plague, just the measles,” Alf sighed. "We've all had it when we were little. Measles are nasty but once you are finished with them you never get them again. In England I once heard of a kiddy being blinded, but never death. Until here, with the natives, that is.

  One day a dugout arrived and the traders aboard had the measles rash. I swear to you that our children were not sick. I swear it to you as I swore it to all of the poor sick folk we tried to help. What happened to those folk was horrific. To us measles is a just something that every kiddy must put up with for a week, but it is different if you catch it as an adult. None of the Pamlico clans had ever had measles before, and it spread amongst them like a grass fire in a wind, and it killed a lot of the grownups.

  With so many dying and so many bodies floating and bloating in the water, those that survived the measles were soon sickened by other diseases. Worst of all, the children survived the measles while the elders mostly died, including a lot of the parents. There were not enough grownups left to fish and farm and look after the babies, so things got even worse.

  Even after the measles had run their murderous course, things got worse. Without the elders to teach them, the youngsters didn't know how to do all the things that needed doing. Village after village was deserted. Clan after clan turned wild and dangerous. They blamed our children for the measles. They attacked us. They killed..." Alf stopped speaking and sobbed. "I swear to you that our children were healthy."

  "So is it better now?" Daniel asked. He was part of a clan so he knew how important it was for elders to pass on their knowledge. To lose all the elders at the same time would be devastating. Even if youngsters knew how to plow and seed from watching their parents, they wouldn't know what to plant, or where, or when, or even how to store the seed.

  "In a word, no. Most clans now live like wild animals compared with how they used to live. You can see it in everything they do. Their culture is gone, and with it their knowledge and skills. Drumming, for instance. They used to have wonderful rhythms and sounds and they could send complicated messages all around the Pamlico with their drums. Now when they drum it is just a monotonous pounding, and any messages are simple warnings at best.

  Our clan, the Duhare, are better off than most because they have always welcomed castaways like me into their villages. The welcome those who bring skills and knowledge into the village. The old one, Datha, is the werowance, the chief of all the Duhare clans. Ask him about how different we Duhare are from the rest of the Pamlico and Tuscarora clans."

  "He is much too old to be a warlord,” Daniel said as he looked over at the old man, "so what is he the chief of?"

  "Chief was a bad choice of words,” Alf replied. "A werowance is more like the clan's treasurer. He decides how the wealth of the clan is to be used, and how it is to be shared. The warlords and wizards therefore answer to him."

  "You have wizards?" Anna asked. The word brought visions and fears of black magic to mind.

  "I am considered a wizard,” Alf told them, "because I know things that most do not. I am also a warlord, but only in the times when Spanish and English ships come looking for slaves."

  The old man, Datha, had been sitting up and leaning against the post of a hut while he listened. He seemed to be asleep but one eye had opened at the mention of his name. "I am Datha, as my father was before me and his father before him. They were all werowances of the Duhare clans. Death is stalking me, so the clans must soon choose another. My grandfather had sickly white skin like Alf's, for he too came on a ship from across the sea." He coughed and leaned backwards again and closed his eyes.

  "He claims that his grandfather was an Irish fisherman,” Alf told them, "who survived the wreck of a ship out of Bristol in about 1500. He says that the ship was one of five which came here looking for new fishing grounds under an admiral he calls John Caboto. His grandfather and the other two survivors of that wreck were welcomed into the Duhare clan. They were welcomed because the men had salvaged some metal tools from the wreck, including axes. Because of the axes those Irish fishermen were considered wizards. Because of the wealth the axes br
ought to the clan, Datha's grandfather was elected the werowance."

  "I've never heard the name Datha before. Is it Irish?" Edward asked.

  "I've wondered that myself,” Alf replied. "It must be from Daithi, you know, the Irish for David."

  "Who cares about the effing name,” Daniel interrupted impatiently. "Tell us why the axes brought wealth. We have lots of axes aboard."

  Alf sighed for he did not like telling these strangers so much. Eventually he said, "Well, imagine living in this land of massive ancient trees and yet having no axes with which to cut them or to carve them. Until Datha's axes, they had no easy way of felling large trees or of carving out their dugouts. Before axes they used hot coals to cut a tree and to hollow it into a boat. It took forever so there were few dugouts and they were all quite short and heavy. Datha and his men used their metal axes to cut down huge trees and carve long dugouts from them. Because of these huge dugouts, the Duhare could not be bested in battle, or trade, or fishing. Wealth poured into the clan.

  And it wasn't just the axes. There were no cattle or sheep for milk and cheese, so instead of hunting deer for food, the Irishmen captured them and trained them for dairy. Can you imagine the price of the first cheese ever traded amongst tens of thousands of folk who had never tasted it before?"

  "Tens of thousands?" Daniel confirmed. "So many? Yet we see so few?"

  "I told you, the measles, remember. Before the measles this Sound was crowded with people and boats and villages."

  "What's this about measles?" Weston asked. He was standing on the edge of the circle of men who had sat on the sand to listen to Alf. Or rather he was leaning on a stave and looking very weary. On seeing him, Alf's eyes went wide and his speaking voice was replaced by an angry growl and then he stood, and drew a knife and leaped at Weston.

  "You bastard, Weston,” Alf snarled, "you're a dead man." And Weston would have died in that moment except that four of the crew wrestled Alf to the sand and took his knife from him. The man squirmed helplessly against the strength of the oarsmen, all the while swearing obscenities at Weston.

  Daniel nodded to Robert with a knowing look of I-told-you-so. He had never liked nor trusted Weston. "What's this all about?"

  Alf was gasping for breath. The crew eased their holds on him so he could catch his breath. "Weston was the factor on the ship that brought us here from Axholme. He lied to us to get us aboard the ship. According to him we were going to join an existing colony that was getting rich from tobacco and gold. He lied to us when they set us ashore here. He told us he was going to find the Croatan chief to find out where the settlement had moved to. He left us with barely more than the clothes on our backs and then he never returned."

  Weston looked like a rat as he gnashed the air with his teeth while trying to speak before he had grasped his breath back. What with his fever and his frailness and his fear he looked like a man possessed, and perhaps he was. "We couldn't find the chief though we searched for him for weeks. And then a plague came and spread sickness and death everywhere, and the captain fled Pamlico in fear. I pleaded with him to go back for you, but his crew would not hear of it, not with a plague ashore.

  You cannot blame me for any of that, for it was all Robert Heath's doing. It was he who wanted you gone from the Axholme commons, and it was he who held the King's patent on Caroline, and it was he who was going to lose that patent if he didn't create a colony. He lied to us all for his own purposes, and I believed him just as you did. If you want to kill someone, then sail to England with me and I will help you to kill Heath."

  "This Heath feller?" Daniel asked. "Would that be Sir Robert Heath of the King's Cabinet? A man by that name has hired Dutch engineers to drain the Fens around Ely."

  "Aye, that will be he,” Alf replied. "At Axholme, Heath was the King's agent and he did hire a Dutchman named Vermuyden. Their plan was to drain our common so the King could claim the land as his. Without our common we had nowhere to graze our animals, nowhere to fish and hunt, nowhere to carve peat for our fires. We were starving and freezing when Weston offered us space on a settler ship to Caroline. Settler, pah, we were being transported just as the Irish were being transported to Virginia. Transported so we wouldn't cause trouble in Axholme. Transported so the bloody King could steal our land."

  "If your aim is to kill Heath,” Daniel told Alf, "then I will gladly carry you to England. I am of the Fens and Vermuyden is draining them the same as in Axholme. Will you sign on?"

  The crew let Alf go but wouldn't let him stand because his face was still a mask of anger. "No. I cannot leave. I have family here."

  "Your family from Axholme? They can come too."

  "No, not from Axholme. They were killed by Croatans in revenge for the plague, though we swore that we did not bring the measles. Now I have a Duhare wife and children. Besides, here I may become the next werowance of the Duhare, whereas in England I would be less than nothing. At least let me kill Weston. He is lying. He stranded us on Rawnocke on purpose."

  "Sounds fair to me,” Daniel interrupted and took Alf's knife from one of the crew and was ready to hand it back to him. Weston looked at him with fear and then pleading.

  "Hold, Daniel. We should stay out of this,” Robert said as he stared first at Alf and then at Weston. "Thomas, I give you two choices. You can swear to Alf that when you reach England you will kill Robert Heath, or you can stay here and make your peace with Alf and live the same life you forced upon him. Choose."

  "You ask me to choose the method of my death,” Weston hissed while swaying on his stave. "For if I attack Heath, I will be drawn and quartered whether or not I succeed, and if I stay here I will not live beyond the Swift's leaving."

  "Choose." Daniel said with a smirk. He and everyone else knew how he would choose. The insect would make an oath to Alf with no intention of ever keeping it.

  "Alf, I swear to God that I will do everything in my power to hurt or kill Robert Heath, and thereby earn your forgiveness,” and with that Weston bowed his head as if in prayer.

  Alf gave Weston a hard stare. "I will forgive you after I hear that Heath is dead. I want all of you to bear witness to this man's oath, and I ask you all to agree that if he breaks this oath, that he forfeits his right to live. If he breaks this oath, then I will expect you to drown him like a seventh puppy."

  "So be it,” Robert agreed, as did all of his crew.

  For the next four days they stayed at the village of Cwarioc and caught fish and smoke-dried them, and explored the hill-less islands close by, and listened to the long tales told by the werowance Datha. The best hunters of the crew followed their Duhare guides into the forest in search of deer. The hunting party returned, each proudly strutting into the village with a stag over his shoulder. The meat was immediately butchered into thin strips for smoking with the fish. None of the passengers had ever tasted venison before, for in England only the Lords of the great estates ever served venison. Since there were almost sixty souls to feed, four animals worth of meat disappeared on that first night.

  The next day another set of hunters followed the guides into the forest. They were also successful. Alf boasted about the skill of the Duhare archers. "Our archers bag more game than archers of other clans because I supply them with metal points." He waved one of the guides near and he took two arrows from him. "See the difference."

  Daniel was not an archer but many in his clan were. He looked at the two points. One had an iron point, heavy and sharp. The other had a bone point, light and brittle. Good enough to kill fish, but not good enough to kill deer, or for that matter, kill men and especially men in armour. He looked at Alf and asked, "You say that of all the Pamlico clans only the Duhare use metal points?"

  "Only the ones I make," Alf replied, "but I am no smith and metal is hard to come by. In Axholme I was a thatcher, which is why I fought the King's enclosures with all my energy. Without the wetland commons I would have had no raw material for my thatching and I would have lost my livelihood."

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nbsp; "Only the Duhare have metal points,” Daniel repeated under his breath. Good to know.

  "Like I said, they have no metal, and no smithy," Alf replied sorrowfully. "They know about metal points and would gladly trade for them, but there are never any on offer. The English ships will trade us muskets and powder and ball, but never metal points for arrows."

  "Well they should get some. It's not just the hardness and sharpness of the point you know, it's more the weight. A man who looses one of these metal points is shooting the equivalent of a musket ball on a shaft, while a man who looses one of these bone points is shooting a shaft of feathers, a toy arrow."

  "Shhh, don't say that so loudly. My men are proud of their hunting skills, even with their bone points,” Alf hissed. "They found the deer for your muskets, remember. In most clans along this coast the men are the hunters and fishermen. Theirs is the work of weapons and dugouts. The women have the houses and the fields and do the farming. The line of inheritance for the houses and farms runs through the women’s bloodline, not the mans."

  "Now ain't that interesting," Daniel said thoughtfully. "It's the same in my village in the Fens. Is that because the Duhare took in castaways?"

  "No. That is true of all of the clans on this coast, both north and south of here. The bloodline for inheritance is through the woman so that the women have an inherited dowry. Because of this a woman may demand a marriage contract before she sleeps with a man. The original marriage contract has a one year term, and before the year is up it can be renewed or cancelled. If the year passes without either, then it becomes a contract for life."

  Daniel poked Robert, who was half dozing in the light of the campfire and feeling very full of roast venison. "D'ya hear that Rob? The Duhare have a traditional law similar to Wellenhay's. It makes sense though, doesn't it? I mean, traditional laws are more natural so it makes sense that they would be similar in distant places."