Becoming Americans (10 page)

      The year's backbreaking labor had prepared the boys for the lesson they received in the forest. England wasn't home to them. This was their home, now. They would be men of Virginia. Their children would be children of Virginia, and would be born surrounded by the spirits they had seen in their forest sojourn with the Indian.

      In September of 1660, word reached the colony that King Charles II sat happily on his throne, returned to cheering throngs in May of that year. Governor William Berkeley had returned to power, and Virginia celebrated the monarchy.

      Pine Haven received that word from men aboard the shallop which Mister John Williams had sent to fetch his nephew. The boat was returning from James Town with provisions for the planned celebration of Mister Williams's fiftieth birthday. Now, certainly, there would be grand festivities.

      The invitation from his uncle had arrived by horse and rider. The old path of Opeechcot's from Pine Haven to the Barnes Plantation was being used more often, and the visiting horseman politely noted that the path might be slightly widened and cleared of underbrush and fallen logs. Then they would have a road. Harper added that new item near the top of his agenda. He would be able to buy a horse this year.

      The men on the Williams shallop were friendly and deferential towards Richard. He was their master's nephew, even though a mere servant himself. He played the role, and stood in the bow with the wind blowing his long curls. It was a sunny voyage through schools of fish as they briefly sailed the Bay, then entered the wide mouth of the Piankatank, retracing the route Richard had gone with Edward and Francis Harper.

      Fields opened in the dense forest and lapped at the river's edge, where cattle grazed or corn stood tall and ripe. Hills of clipped tobacco stalks dotted other fields where pigs roamed wild, hunting for more to eat. When the familiar chimneys of the Ware Plantation rose from the ridge, Richard felt a surge in his pulse.

      By the time the shallop was tied up at Mister Ware's dock, word had spread of the boat's arrival. John Williams's neat shallop was familiar to them so Mistress Ware herself met it, Mister Ware being occupied in a distant field. Standing by her on the dock was a young girl showing promise of adolescence. Anne's face had changed somehow, Richard thought. Were her lips fuller? Her eyes were different, or did she just use them differently when she looked at him? Her dress seemed to flare more from the tiny waist, and…was she developing breasts?

      He barely heard the words of greeting from Mistress Ware, but soon recovered, telling the lady of the visit to his Uncle John, and that he'd requested the sailors stop that he might offer his greeting to Mister and Mistress Ware. And to their family, he added, bowing to Mistress Ware then, more deeply, to her granddaughter. He lifted his head in time to see the flush rise in Anne's face.

      Despite the urging of Mistress Ware that he wait until her husband's return, Richard was firm in that he must hasten to his uncle with the great news of His Majesty's restoration. Richard was content to go on, knowing that with neither of them having said a word, his claim for the future was restated and acknowledged with a smile and a blush.

      The plantation of John Williams was at the upper reaches of the Piankatank, on the edge of the Dragon Swamp, above the ferry Opeechcot had avoided. Richard noted with pride the chimneys of the manor house and the number of outbuildings. A road ran westward in the distance to a bridge that crossed the narrowing river. This was the lower reaches of the same road they'd followed with Opeechcot. Uncle John was well placed for travel by land and by the river.

      The house was not quite so grand as Mister Ware's, but it was most comfortable. A small section of the house—about fifteen-foot square—must have been the original house, for it had the large chimney required for cooking. It remained the kitchen, but another section—about twenty-foot square—had been added on. Some things still bloomed in the old garden, and the smell of crushed apples was stronger than the smell of tobacco that blended with it.

      John Williams waited on the riverbank as Richard's shallop drifted to the pier.

      "Welcome, Nephew!" Uncle John shouted to him.

      "My thanks, in advance, for your hospitality, Uncle!" Richard shouted back.

      Richard hurried to the portly gentleman.

      "I am forever in your debt, Uncle, for the honor of this invitation." He bowed to his uncle, but was taken into the man's embrace.

      "You repay that debt, Richard, by being the upright boy you are. The son of a noble father."

      John Williams directed Richard's attention to the tiny woman who stood beside him. The boy standing by her side, though just a child, was as tall as she.

      "This lady is your Aunt Mary, Richard, and this, your Cousin Thomas."

      Richard took the woman's hand and raised it to his lips.

      "No, Richard," she said," your Aunt Mary wants more from you than Cavalier manners." She pulled him with surprising strength into her arms and gave him a long and full hug that almost brought tears to his yes. He tried to remember if he'd ever been made to feel so wanted and belonging. When he was released his heart was full, and so were the eyes he turned to Thomas. He took the boy's hand in both of his and shook it warmly.

      "You look like your namesake, our Cousin Thomas in England," Richard said. "And he's a terror!"

      The boy blushed and his parents laughed.

      "I bring you a present Uncle, and I bring you news that will insure this as the best birthday of your life."

      The man stammered and his wife glowed. The boy could sense excitement coming.

      "First, my humble offering in honor of your birth feast and in appreciation of the blind faith you showed me at our first meeting."

      The sailors lifted onto the dock and rolled towards the group a hogshead of Richard's making. It was the best he'd made, and he was proud of it.

      His uncle circled the cask and felt the barely perceptible seams on the staves. The hoops were firmly bradded and filed; the whole had been smoothed and oiled to give it the appearance of a piece of furniture.

      "My boy, my boy," his uncle repeated as he circled the hogshead, making much of his nephew's work. "You are a craftsman, indeed. How could I soil this cask by using it?"

      "I'll keep my linens in it," his wife replied. "Now we have no need to order a new chest from Bristol." She hugged Richard again, this time making him feel uncomfortable.

      "Did you make this?" Thomas touched the cask and looked up admiringly at his cousin. "Did you make it from scratch?"

      "I grew the tree and dug the iron," Richard said.

      "You did not!" the boy replied and blushed again.

      "And now, Uncle, the news to warm you through the coming winter. The King is home! King Charles is home in England!"

     John was silent for a moment, then gave a long prayer of thanksgiving. He sent Thomas to ring the bell that issued warning of attack, or summoned workers about the plantation from their work or play, to come at once to the manor house.

      The celebration lasted for a week. Pigs and cattle were slaughtered and roasted. Turkeys were roasted, chickens and pigeons stewed, and pies and tarts and cakes covered tables that bowed under the weight of food. Guests arrived by river and by road. Gunfire went on throughout the first night, and all the days that followed were filled with horse races and games and—with Mister Williams's example—hours of Bible reading and prayers. Richard went on his first carriage ride when he accompanied his aunt and cousin on a visit to the lordly, brick manor house of Edward Diggs, a man whose wealth and fame came as the grower of the colony's first and finest sweet-scented tobacco, and as a highly praised producer of silk worm.

      When they returned from the two-day visit with the Diggses, Uncle John showed Richard an engraved brass plaque he'd attached to the polished hogshead: "This cask arrived with the news of the Restoration of King Charles II."

      John and Mary Williams treated Richard as if he'd been born to them. His cousin Thomas tagged along behind him like a puppy. The God of Love they talked of constantly was real to them, and they reflected it in their acceptance of him. But, by the time the visit was ending, and Richard's thoughts were preparing him for the months of backbreaking clearing and burning that Harper had promised, he'd tired of the nightly Bible readings and the lengthy prayers. The trip to church with his family was a disappointment because Anne had returned to her father's plantation on the Elizabeth River, although Richard did enjoy the reception that his blue suit received when he sat in the Williams' pew with his new family.

      On the night before returning to Pine Haven, Uncle John called Richard into the hall and asked his wife and son to step into the other room.

      It was the end of twilight, so Aunt Mary closed the windows before the mosquitoes could fly back in. The scent of bayberry filled the room as she lit the candles and pulled the door behind her.

      "You've made me proud and you've brought back memories I thought were lost," Uncle John began. He fingered something as he spoke.

      "And you give Thomas something that no one else could have. A family connection that will—we pray to God—survive his mother and me. The blessing of a family's love and devotion is exceeded only by the love and devotion of our Heavenly Father and the family of Saints."

      Richard's uncle stared at the small round object in his hand.

      "You brought me a gift of love and labor, my boy, that your Aunt Mary and I will always cherish. I have for you a gift of love that no one could have convinced me to part with."

      He unsnapped the locket that he held and stared at the contents.

      "This is a lock of your father's hair," he said.

      Richard hesitated, then stepped to where his uncle stood holding the cherished memento to the candlelight. It was the blond curl of a child's hair, of the same texture and color as the lock of his own hair that Richard owned.

      "I remember when our mother snipped this curl from his little head. I wasn't that much bigger, truth be told, but I felt I was. About like you and Thomas, I suppose. About that age difference. He was a precious child and a noble man."

      Uncle John handed him the locket and Richard mumbled a quick rhyme to ward off ghosts as he took the locket into his own hands. It was like seeing a ghost, he thought, and marveled at his own emotion. He owned nothing that had been his father's; he'd seen no image of him. He'd been fascinated and comforted when Uncle John had told him of his resemblance. Now he felt a closeness, a true blood connection.

      "As a more practical matter, I give you these."

      Richard looked to his Uncle John, still caught in the power of the tiny thing he held. He saw the canvas bag his uncle was reaching for and bent to lift the bundle for the elderly man. It was heavy, it clanked, and Richard placed it gently on his Aunt Mary's polished chest.

      "One gift for the heart, one for the hand," John Williams said. He opened the bag and took out tools: a draw knife, a mallet, an adz, a rounding knife, and a hollowing knife.

      "Cooper's tools!" Richard nearly dropped the locket.

      "Not all you need, but some of the basics. Harper, your master, should supply the rest."

      "Uncle John…."

      "The gifts come with love and with advice, my boy. You have a gift from God that will secure you from want. Men will always need hogsheads and pipes as long as there are dry goods and liquids to hold or ship. You may not become wealthy, but you will not want, and you will have time for the truly valuable things in life—your family and your friends. Wealth is not the blessing that is claimed for it, I'm learning. Your Aunt Mary has recently come into an inheritance of six hundred more acres on the Dragon Swamp. It comes with debts and worries that already drag me down. So, the advice I give you with this locket and the tools is simple. Continue to live simply when you are a free man. Do not be caught up in the mad scramble for ever more land and servants that has overcome Virginia with your generation. Avoid debt when possible. To maintain the love of life I see you have, work for enough to give you independence, but not so much as to bind you with heavy responsibility."

      The fortnight with his family on the Piankatank rushed by for Richard, but it melded with the lesson he had learned with Opeechcot in the forest. Virginia was his home. This was his family.

Edward Harper ran down the dock to greet the boat. Before Richard could begin the stories he'd been rehearsing, Edward blurted out, "Brinson Barnes is dead and Father is to wed Drusilla!"

      Richard forgot his brief resentment of the timing and asked for details.

      "For three days the chills of the ague racked him," Edward explained. "I was there in father's stead. The grippe had laid Father low for a fortnight— vomiting and the runs. He's better now. I watched Old Brinson die, and a frightening thing it was, by God. You got back in time for the funeral!"

      Old Brinson Barnes had been good to them. Richard touched his rabbit's foot and poured a bit of beer on the ground by his left foot. Without Barnes, they would probably all be dead. God had sent them Barnes and Opeechcot. Maybe He'd taken Mistress Harper in return for the favor. Truth be told, they probably got the better of the bargain. These two years of guidance had been their apprenticeship, Richard thought. He remembered the faces he had looked to as the
Deliverance's
captain made his prophecy. How many were still alive?