Becoming Americans

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Boson Books
3905 Meadow Field Lane
Raleigh, NC 27606

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BOSON BOOKS
 

Raleigh

Richard Williams's Virginia

Deep Creek and the Dismal Swamp

Stephen's years in Bath

Sapony Creek settlement in Edgecombe

There was growing nostalgia for a king in England by 1658. Oliver Cromwell and his fervent Republican forces had beheaded their king five years earlier, shocking the world and horrifying those subjects who saw King Charles as the anointed of God, His temporal representation as Head of the Church of England. But, those who overthrew King Charles had no need for an intermediary with God, and acknowledged no fealty to the ruler they called a despot. By 1658, the Republicans ruled England with the iron fist of a god who was colder and less colorful than the god of their dead king.

      Discontented advocates of a monarchy fled the harsh Commonwealth, mostly to Virginia. The vast new land welcomed them; she needed workers. England's jails and asylums were culled for settlers for that distant void of civilization. Prodigal sons and daughters were sent to her. Infectious "fevers of immigration" were created in whole communities by printed flyers boasting of easy and assured riches in the New World. England's exploding population was vented. Virginia took all she could get—and she devoured the great majority.

      "Look closely at those four people standing nearest to you."

      The captain of the
Deliverance
offered a chilling welcome to the fifty apprehensive passengers who stood on deck as the one-hundred ton ship from Bristol sailed out of land's view, into the Atlantic Ocean.

      "Look closely and with love," he said. "For they will be dead within a year."

      Seven weeks later, the captain called the remaining forty-one passengers together again as they sailed past Cape Henry, into the Chesapeake Bay, only hours before docking in James Town. They gathered in clumps of new relationships. Thirteen-year-old Richard Williams stood by his master's family.

      "For some few of you the promise of great fortune will prove true. None need fear our Lord Protector, Cromwell, here. The Governor, his Council, and the Burgesses will, for the most part, leave you be. You'll not starve—if you're willing to open up an oyster or shoot a goose or reach to fetch a peach. Some
do
starve because they're unwilling to do that little for themselves. Probably the savages will not kill you, for we've killed most of them with our guns and diseases. What will kill the most of you is stupidity and ignorance. Remember that you are not in England! Don't let the climate kill you—you do not know this heat of summer, nor the sharp, cold winds of winter. Don't let the abundance kill you. An overabundance of milk and honey is as deadly as the lack, thereof. Listen to the seasoned settlers and take precautions. Because four of five who left Bristol will be dead within a year."

      Richard shifted his weight with the rolling deck and narrowed his eyes. The wind and his sweat made him shiver. He looked at those around him. The sobering words of the captain had ended the celebration and stale beer. Every face reflected terror.

      Richard knew that many settlers died—his Uncle Edward had told him that—but no one had suggested these large numbers! His uncle had deliberately misled him! He looked back to the others on board and pondered how he differed from them. Which of them would die? And why? He reached for his rabbit's foot.

      Richard wasn't the youngest of the immigrants, and not the only one among them orphaned by Cromwell's revolution. Nor was he the only one unwanted back home in England. In these seven weeks at sea he'd heard the others' stories and complaints; that they'd been stolen from their families, or picked up from the streets where they'd been sleeping, or on the roads as they traveled. The Protector was transporting prisoners and prostitutes with beggars and wanderers. Some of the poorest died aboard the ship, sick when they signed up. Others were sick, now, and would likely die. Richard had avoided them. He didn't like sick people. They were bad luck.

      He clutched the rabbit's foot in his left hand. It was as good a rabbit's foot as you could get—a left hind foot, cut off by a cross-eyed old woman. That was one advantage he had.

      All sails were lowered as the
Deliverance
was anchored and secured by a James Town wharf. A great, dark forest encircled the distance. Heavy aromas filled the air, and the damp heat made breathing difficult. The English ship was harbored by the edge of a wilderness of unknown savagery and peril. Fear of being swallowed by the open, endless ocean was now the fear of storied beasts and wild men of the forest.

      The city of James Town was a stockaded village, on the up-river end of an almost-island. The masts of other ships could be seen through the woods, riding where they berthed on the back side of the peninsula. For the fortnight that the ship lay anchored by James Town, Richard stood at the rail, hungrily watching the comings and goings. His master, Francis Harper, would let none of his party— except his own family—venture ashore. Richard longed to stand on land again, and his curiosity about the hustling village they called a "town" was enticing, but his impatience with Harper's edict was tempered by relief. There was plenty new to see right here.

      Within his sight, life and people seemed familiar. Two men rolled a hogshead up a ramp. Smoke rose from chimneys. A small boy chased his dog down the dusty highway by the river. People went about their business as though unaware of any oddities or danger. As if theirs were natural, normal lives. So strange, to Richard.

      Richard studied the planters who came on board—
survivors—
searching them for clues, something they all held in common that had protected them. Richard determined not to be among the first year's dead. He would learn the enemy. He'd find the secret.

      He concentrated on studying those frightened souls on board the ship and felt sorry for the folks being examined by boarding planters. He was thankful for his great advantage over those less lucky: they, like Richard, were to be indentured servants, but unlike them, Richard had known and approved his master before leaving England. Although his Uncle Edward made the arrangements with Francis Harper in advance, he'd explained the details to Richard and had taken him to meet his master and the family.

      Francis Harper stood over six feet tall, and his wife was a robust woman. Their son, Edward Harper, was thirteen years old, just Richard's age, and their daughter, Evelyn, was two years younger. The family took to Richard, and the boys were soon trading strategies for dealing with the New World savages.

      Richard's Uncle Edward had bargained for him with some leverage, since Edward Williams was the tobacco merchant in Bristol with whom Francis Harper would be dealing in the years to come. By providing transportation to Virginia for the family and for Richard, plus three additional servants, Harper would be given headrights to four hundred acres of land—fifty acres per person arriving in the colony. In return for transportation costs and support, Richard and the others who signed indentures were Harper's for the number of years contracted. Richard's indenture obliged him to Harper until his twenty-first birthday. Other boys his age, according to the custom of the country, might have to work until their twenty-fourth year under less favorable conditions. Both men were satisfied with the deal. Harper had a young, energetic servant and friend for his son— possibly a husband for his daughter—and Edward was rid of a nephew who was becoming troublesome, unruly, and unnecessary in a household with three sons of his own. He'd housed and fed the boy for the ten years since the father was killed fighting for the king. That was enough family loyalty, he thought. Richard was glad to be rid of them all and off to a great adventure.