Pistoleer: Pirates Page 8

  With a sleepy smile Robert whispered, "Daniel here has two wives, both second wives,” softly enough that none of the Puritans would hear his words and take amiss.

  "Sisters of your dead wife?" Alf asked.

  "Wife of my dead brother and her sister,” Daniel replied softly.

  "Then that is the same too,” Alf chuckled. "I protect the lives of my wife's brothers for all I am worth because I would hate for them to die and leave me their wives. One is ugly and the other is a right bitch."

  They were interrupted by a howl of pain. One of the young oarsmen was having a haircut. He had learned that the reason the Duhare hunters wore their hair in one long braid on the left and shaved the right side of their head was so that the hair would never tangle in their bowstring. It was as good a reason as any to have a hair cut. Perhaps he should have honed his own knife and had the native hunter use that as a razor, rather than have him use his own clam shell razor.

  * * * * *

  When they left the wonderful deep sea port at Cwarioc, they took these Duhare men with them and dropped them at their farming village of Chattoka up the Neuse River, which was the first big river as they entered the wider Pamlico Sound. The sound was more like a shallow inland sea behind the barrier islands.

  Chattoka was well placed to control a fork in the river and a deep pool caused by the fork. The pool was the last place where the Swift could still float freely and turn about. One of the cypress dugouts tied up at the village was fully forty feet long and had her gunnels built up with planking. At least thirty could travel in her at a time, or would have been able to if she hadn't been so old and waterlogged. This rotting dugout was not the only thing that told that Chattoka was far less of a village than it had once been. There were abandoned huts and caved in roofs and untilled fields all along the river.

  The village was expecting them and refused them a landing, though the werowance Datha and his men were allowed ashore. "It's the children thing again,” Alf explained. "The measles changed their life from one of abundance to one of hardship so quickly that they do not want to risk a repeat of it. Yet they were the luckiest of the clans because they already had Englishmen living amongst them. We still live well compared to the other clans. The other clans live like desperate savages."

  "If your clan had a ship like ours,” Daniel asked, "what would you do with it? Conquer the rest of the clans?"

  "Conquest is for Spaniards and slave owners,” Alf replied and then went thoughtful. "I would bring metal tools from England, a whole shipload of them. With so few people now living around this Sound, we need metal tools to make the work easier. Yes, metal tools, including metal arrow points. With such tools the clans could return to their life of abundance."

  "You would need something to trade for the tools. Do you have any gold?" Robert asked.

  Before answering, Alf scanned Robert's face for any sign of greed behind the question. There was none. The man had spoken the word 'gold' as he would have spoken 'fur' or 'fish'. "The reason that the Spaniards ignore this coast is because you cannot mine for gold in swamps. Mines need hills, and there are no hills here other than sand dunes. The only gold the clans have are the bangles and beads they traded for in the good years before measles, and those are now buried with the dead.

  We could trade lumber, fish, furs, and tobacco, but not until after we have tools. Without the tools we spend all our time fulfilling our own needs. What extra we now have, we would gladly trade to you for any spare metal that I can use to make arrow points. The one thing that no European seems to trade with the local clans is metal points for our arrows."

  "Aye, we have some metal, but trade for what?" Daniel asked.

  "Furs."

  "Do you have any sassafras root?" Weston called out. When Daniel gave him a sour look, he explained. "It used to be known as a cure for fevers. It has other uses with holy folk. The Puritans of Massachusetts will trade for it."

  "Furs and sassafras then, and some of that dried venison-with-berries that we sampled,” Daniel listed. "What about buckskin clothing?"

  The bargaining went on and on. This village did not have much that could be traded for a profit elsewhere on either side of the Atlantic, but eventually Alf got his metal for arrow points and five metal axes. Daniel could see how eager he was for the metal, but he did not push his advantage in the dealing, for he wanted to keep Alf as a friend. A most valuable friend if Alf ever became the werowance of the Duhare, and if ever his own Wellenhay clan moved to the Pamlico.

  They bid farewell to Alf and his village and as Robert stood at the gunnels waving, Daniel whispered to him, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking Rob? This would be a fine place for my clan to settle. Alf said there are fewer than ten days of frost a year. Our traditions are so similar that we could easily live beside the Duhare, or even join them. They can help us and we can help them, and given time my clan would become the leaders of all the clans of the Pamlico. With our ship, our tools, and our know how we could all live like lords."

  "Aye, I was thinking the like. You would need to bring some dairy calves, colts, lambs, and chickens."

  "And the workings of some mills,” Daniel added. "Grist and saw and smithy."

  "And a shipwright. Aye, a shipwright could make a good life here. Look at the trees. Think of the ships you could build with them and using the Swift as a model."

  "This fork in the river will stay a safe harbour so long as no one is allowed to clear the trees on the south east bank. It should be safe enough in a storm, even one of them Barbados Hurakan." Daniel's voice got quieter. "Too bad there are no coconuts, for I dream of living on a coco island like those of the Virgins."

  "True, but unlike the Virgins,” Robert replied, "here there are lots of deer and lots of giant pines and cypress for ships planks and masts, and little risk of being attacked by Spaniards. The Spaniards have been sailing along this coast for over a hundred years. They obviously don't want it for themselves. And as for privateers, well, if there is no gold to be had, why would a privateer even come here."

  Edward came to speak with Robert so they stopped the discussion. They did not want Edward to tell the Brownists in Massachusetts about the benefits of this place. To Edward's question about why they were leaving instead of spending some more time in the village, Robert lied, "I decided it was not safe to stay. The locals fear your children, and that fear may lead to violence."

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  The Pistoleer - Pirates by Skye Smith Copyright 2013-14

  Chapter 5 - The Virginias in June 1641

  As they approached the channel that led north out of Pamlico Sound, Weston came on deck. He had been drinking an infusion made from sassafras root and he was in a better mood than anyone could remember This was a narrow waterway that ran behind the barrier sand islands, much like the channel that entered the Sound from the south. As with the southern channel, they were forced to row north against the wind for there was not enough room to tack between the shallows.

  Weston had come on deck to gaze over Rawnocke island. "When last I was passed this island, this channel was full of boats, and not just local boats. You see, it connects Pamlico Sound to Rawnocke Sound, which is also a large shallow sea with many rivers feeding it. Any trade between the two sounds must pass by this island. The lack of boats tells me that the measles must have visited the clans of both Sounds. When we left England we were assured that there was an English fort here, and a settlement, which was why we brought Alf and his village here. When we got here there was no sign of either."

  "What do you think happened to them?" Daniel asked.

  "I don't know, but I can guess." Weston waved his arm at the channel. "No native trader who paddles cargoes along these waterways would want a fort controlling them. Nor would the Spanish, nor the French. Any of them could have cleared the settlers when they destroyed the fort."

  "Too bad,” Daniel said as he eased the wheel over to correct the course against the current. "Rawnocke is
one of the few islands we've seen that has a hill higher than the sand dunes. Who do you think destroyed the fort?"

  "Most likely the local traders. Like you said, too bad. The island is protected by the barrier islands, has waterways on both sides, and has enough land to till. However, there is no reason for us to stop. Stay to this course and turn inland into Rawnocke Sound. There used to be a large town of friendly natives at the end of the Sound near the mouth of the Chowan river. I stayed there once. If memory serves it was called Weaperneoc, or perhaps that was the name of the werowance that ruled it."

  Rawnocke sound was not nearly so vast as Pamlico but in every other way it was very similar. There were islands and inlets and river mouths and peninsulas, but no hills to speak of. They saw only four boats during the duration of their sail to and from Weaperneoc, which was perhaps forty miles each way.

  Weaperneoc was no longer a town, in truth it was barely a village. Though there were five small dugouts pulled into the shallows, the only person they saw was a man dressed as a wizard who attempted to dance a curse upon their ship. Weston sobbed when he saw the remains of the town, and pointed out some piles of rubble in the distance that he swore marked the extent of the old town. They could see dozens of cleared fields that were now being reclaimed by bush.

  Weston told them that there was no channel to the sea through the barrier islands to the north of Rawnocke Sound. "At least there were none ten years ago,” he added, "although the Hurakan winds may have opened one since then. It would be best to go back to the channel just south of Rawnocke island. Be warned that once we are at sea again, there is no safe harbour to the north along the barrier islands for perhaps a day's sail north."

  Robert and Daniel decided to wait until morning to enter the sea, for the last time they had been at sea at the south end of these sounds, a strong current had almost killed the ship. With this decision made, everyone had an afternoon and a night ashore at Rawnocke Island at what seemed to be the most likely place to build a village. There were some signs that once there had been a village and sown fields there, but there was no way of telling whether it was English or Croatan.

  * * * * *

  A few days later the Swift entered the great Chesapeake Bay. "That is Fort Algernon,” Weston pointed to a small fort made from wooden pales and told Robert, "They will expect us to anchor nearby and identify ourselves." Robert was standing next to Daniel who was on the wheel, but gave no orders to change course.

  "So this is the James River, then?" asked Robert, looking up from a chart he had stolen from an English slaver in Africa. "So there is a small bay behind the fort, and a river that leads to a village?"

  "Yes, but as I said, they will expect you to anchor out here and send a boat to the fort."

  "Do as he says,” Daniel muttered. "The look of the Swift will have them all worried about a pirate attack. I'm looking forward to the safety of an English bay, so don't mess about. Do as the man says." Their discussion was interrupted by the sound of musket fire. "Bloody hell, I told you so. Now go and have a talk with the fort commander."

  "The musket fire was not coming from the fort, but from that jolly boat,” Robert said while spying on the boat through his looker. "And they aren't firing at us but at a young couple in yon dugout. Danny, change course and put us between the two of them." He turned to the rigging crew who were already standing by to drop the sails, and yelled. "After you drop the sails, run some oars out, smartly now!"

  The Swift responded quickly to the change of course but then slowed as the crew let the wind out of her sails, and then drifted between the jolly boat and the dugout. So close did they come to the dugout that the couple aboard it panicked and lost their balance and ended up in the water. They tried to right the little canoe, but they did not have the strength. The crew threw them a line, and they reluctantly took it and the both of them were pulled towards the Swift.

  While the couple were being hauled out of the water on one side of the Swift, Robert hailed the musket men in the jolly boat on the other side, "This is a fine welcome for an English ship. Can't you see our colors? Fire another shot and I will blow you out of the water just for being rude." With that he uncovered and swung the swivel gun around as if aiming it, even though it was not loaded.

  "No, no, captain,” a man hailed back. "It was not you we were shooting at, but the youngsters in the dugout. They are runaway slaves from the Richneck Plantation of Elizabeth Cittie."

  "And you shoot young slaves? Isn't that a sinful waste? Why not just throw gold coins into the sea."

  "Not so many coins as you think,” a boatman called back, "for they are just Irish trash. Besides we just wanted to frighten them into giving up so we wouldn't have to chase them out into the Bay."

  Robert looked behind him as the young couple were pulled over the gunnels and onto the main deck. They were soaking wet, sparsely clothed, and not more than fifteen or sixteen. Anna was running towards them while opening a length of coarse cloth that could have been a small blanket or a large towel. She slapped the crew's hands away from the girl and wrapped her in it, then threw another length of cloth towards the boy.

  With seven long steps Robert was across the deck to speak with them. "The men who shot at you say you are runaway slaves."

  "We are runaways, yes,” said the boy through chattering teeth, and with a heavy Gael accent, "but we came to these shores as bondsmen, not as slaves. In Virginia the distinction seems to have been misplaced."

  "And where were you running to?"

  "There is another colony called Saint Mary's further up the Bay on the Potomac River. It is a colony of Catholics. We would be safe there."

  On hearing the boy's words, Anna, a fervent Brownist and anti-papist, released the girl she had been hugging and stepped back from her and looked as if she was about to snatch back her blankets. Weston stepped forward to block her from doing so. "Safe at Saint Mary's?" Weston sneered at the lad. "You would simply trade one slave master for another."

  "Any master would be better than the master of Richneck,” replied the lad in his heavy accent. The girl remained silent and probably did not understand English. "He told us that he was doing us a kindness because he liked us. That neither of us would need to work in the hot sun of the tobacco fields. I could work in the storehouse, and my sister could be his chamber maid. In other words, his personal whore, to... to ... to a man who is syphilitic. I had no choice but to get her away from him."

  "You are lucky to get as far as you did in that dugout,” Daniel pointed to it where it was upside down and barely afloat. "It's completely waterlogged."

  "Well for now you are safe on the Swift,” Robert told the lad, "so get dry and get warm and Anna will feed you." He strode back over to the other side of the deck and looked down at the men in the jolly boat, which was now alongside. "Your runaway's dugout is underwater and we have taken them aboard."

  "Good, then hand them down to us,” the jolly's tillerman called back.

  "What, to be shot?"

  "A good whipping is all they will get, 'ceptin maybe the girl. She's a looker." The jolly boat men all snickered.

  "You say they are slaves, yet they swear they are not,” Robert told them.

  "They are slaves right enough, now hand them over." There was no mistaking the change in tone.

  "This I cannot do. You see, whether they were slaves or not before they came aboard, they are no longer slaves. Our ship's articles state that there will never be a slave aboard, so therefore so long as they remain aboard, they are not slaves. Neither can I force them to go with you into assured slavery."

  "Aye, well Cap'n Taylor will have something to say 'bout that,” the tillerman replied. "He's over in Kecoughtan as we speak. Follow us and we will show you where to anchor in Hampton Creek."

  "What about the fort? Shouldn't I report there first?" Robert asked.

  "The commander of the fort is Taylor's man, and Taylor is Robert Rich's agent here in Virginia. You know, Rich, the Earl of Warwick
. Talkin' to Taylor 'll save you a trip to the fort."

  "But the fort has cannons and they have been signaling us with warnings."

  "Bah, you are safe enough from our fort's cannons,” the tillerman chortled.

  * * * * *

  Thomas Taylor was not a well man, certainly not well enough to ride. Outside a large log and plank house, the largest in Kecoughtan, there was a palanquin chair that his slaves carried him about in. He had been a ship's captain, and had made a fortune carrying Irish slaves to Virginia. After the Earl of Warwick, he was the largest landowner in Warwick county. Because he managed Warwick's holdings as well as his own, he was a law unto himself, and he applied that law with all of the light handedness and fairness of a slave-ship captain.

  Taylor was fat, ugly, and full of his own importance and Robert hated him at first sight, but he did not dare show it. Instead he chose his words carefully to match his role of a college educated and gentrified captain , which he was. They sipped rum, which was lighter and tastier than any he had tasted before, and spoke of ships, the sea, and politics. Not a half hour of such pleasantry had passed before Taylor gave orders that all aboard the Swift should be well billeted and well fed by the town.

  It was Robert alone who had answered Taylor's summons. Though he hated slavers, at least he could control that hatred, unlike Daniel. In Africa Daniel had dispatched a slaver captain with a quick knife to the back of his neck, and was unrepentant about the murder. Robert was capable of killing this foul man, but that would be a carefully measured act, whereas Daniel may have killed him outright without a thought to the future.

  Oh how Robert wished he was at his billet with Daniel instead of telling this man all of his news from the Caribbean and England. Not that it was new news, for some of it was over four months old, but to Thomas Taylor this was all new. The Swift was the first ship to arrive this month. Thus he spoke at length and answered questions all the while longing for a berth that did not rock with the waves and wind, and a sleep that did not require one ear to remain cocked for pirates, cannibals, or cannon balls.