Becoming Americans (11 page)

      "Opeechcot is gone, too," Edward said. "We don't know if he's dead, but he's gone. He disappeared the morning after Barnes died."

      "Opeechcot's not dead!" Richard insisted. "He wouldn't disappear and die!"

      The two young men were silent for a moment.

      "And the bans have been posted for Father and Drusilla."

      "That'll just make them legal," Richard said, and smiled. They were silent again.

      "Everything keeps changing, doesn't it, Richard," Edward finally said.

      The funeral was large and grand. That was the custom of the country and it had been one of Barnes's last requests. Mistress Barnes had rented a lush velvet pall from the church that draped gracefully from the peaked lid of the coffin. The crowd was feasting and drinking the best the widow could summon, and Edward expressed the question that he knew was plaguing the widow and that was bothering his own father.

      "Old Brinson made it hard for her in the end, he did. He kept asking for this fine farewell and he kept insisting that she should remarry when he died. That she should marry his kinsman, our James Barnes. But she isn't able to buy his contract from Father. She'll have nothing left after paying for this funeral."

      The drunken guests were firing guns now, and Edward stopped talking as the fusillade of gunfire chased away the evil spirits. Gunfire had become such a dangerous part of drunken funeral celebrations that some people were talking about instituting regulations.

      "The minister gets four hundred pounds of tobacco for the funeral fee! And this is real Madeira wine!"

      "I know," Richard said. "And there's French brandy for the gentlemen."

      Edward shrugged and looked to the drunken widow. Her eyes were red and swollen. She held the arm of Harper's servant, her recent kinsman, James Barnes. Her own recently freed servant, the sawyer, Robert—who now called himself Robert Sawyer—stood near behind her, smiling at the sumptuous feast.

      The Sawyer spoke into the ear of the goodwoman. Mistress Barnes lowered her head, as James Barnes stood by, rigid in restraint.

      "He kept talking about home, at the end," Edward said. "He was homesick for England."

      "That was a sad waste of time," Richard said. He felt no pity.

      Within a week the word was out that Mistress Barnes was soon to wed Robert Sawyer. There was such haste, that the bans would not be posted. The sawyer would, instead, pay the two hundred pounds of tobacco for a license and, as soon as the formalities could be arranged, Widow Barnes would wed the man whom, just weeks before, had been her servant.

      James Barnes struggled to contain his rage. He knew the wishes of his cousin Brinson that
he
wed the widow. He'd expected to be freed to wed this lady of some substance. But the expenses of Old Brinson's first dying wish had precluded the second.

      Edward was right, the funeral had nearly taken the whole estate, leaving nothing to afford the purchase of James Barnes's contract, and leaving the grieving woman with a plantation, servants and slaves that demanded a man's firm hand to manage.

      Robert Sawyer was at the ready with coins—a rarity—and with credit he had accumulated using the time and tools his master had allowed him. Harper and the other planters were suspicious that such a sum as the new freedman evidenced to hold could have been amassed by honest means. The man had sawn lumber for most of them, had been hired by them for some carpentry, but it seemed unlikely that as a servant he could have accumulated such an amount.

      Mistress Barnes was in no position to be too curious. She was desperately in debt and—like all the planters—was suffering from the low price of tobacco that was the result of over-planting. The only recourse to low prices was to plant even
more,
and Brinson had been slow to act on that. His last year's crop had been no larger than the previous. Her creditors were being impatiently, and only temporarily, polite. No one would openly question the sources of Robert Sawyer's wealth.

      Richard and Edward were amused by the scandal and were only curious as to the amount of rum punch Sawyer would provide the wedding guests. When the day had come and gone, they tried to console their friend and co-worker, James Barnes, that he hadn't lost a bride and freedom, he had gained a source of spirits. The new planter had told Harper and his people that his pipes of wine and ale were never empty and that they should treat them as their own. James Barnes would not be consoled, although he drank the wine. Instead, he made vague threats and hinted at troubles that would come.

      Francis Harper and Drucilla Smittle were more circumspect. One month passed without celebration as the bans were read on subsequent Sundays for Harper and his servant girl. Work resumed on the plantation. Richard spent long days wielding the heavy ax that now swung easily in his control. More acreage of trees must be felled to free the land for cultivation. Huge trunks that he'd girdled the year before were now hacked at until they fell. Again the night skies were lit by huge fires that sparked the horizon, warming the English settlers on cold nights as they sat around their own blazes telling tales of England and of their dreams for the future.

      Richard preferred the days alone when he could work with his ax and with his thoughts. He could contemplate the future. His own future. Plans that must be his own, independent of his friend Edward and Pine Haven. Uncle John promised to be helpful, but Uncle John was old. He would likely die before Richard was a freedman. That was six more years! By then Anne would be…. He made notches in the hickory trunk to add it up. She would be sixteen, and probably already married! Certainly, there'd be many established planters or their sons vying for her hand. He'd have little chance as a new freedman with no more than he'd be able to save by hiring out his cooper's skills. Anne was spoiled already. She'd want a man of means who could build her a brick house and buy her clothes. Yet, the sawyer had done it. It was possible, somehow. Suddenly, the questions about Robert the sawyer became interesting. More than gossip, they might hold the key. Sawyer wasn't just a survivor, he'd prospered. Richard determined to find out how.

      On most days, James Barnes worked with Richard, drinking hard and long in his resentment. His grin was gone. He was no longer "Robin Hayseed." He made full use of Sawyer's offer, as if to ruin the man by emptying his pipes of wine. He felt no gratitude, he said. It was less than his due. Two years earlier, when James was staying at Old Brinson's, splitting and sawing weatherboards for Harper's manor house, the sawyer had told him things that James had sworn to secrecy. He'd told Barnes of his life in England and the crimes that had brought about his exportation to Virginia. "Robert Cutpurse" was a better name for him than Robert Sawyer, Barnes told Richard. Now he was a respectable planter while Barnes, who came from a good, hard-working family, remained a servant. He'd been an heir, almost!

      This new land gave everybody a chance, Richard reminded him. It wasn't over. Barnes would be free himself in two years. He could settle his own land….

      But where, Barnes wanted to know? All the good land on this side of Indian country was going fast. And where would he find a wife? What good woman would settle for a new freedman with just an ax and rifle and a suit of old clothes with a bag of seed-corn? That's about all he'd be provided as his rights with freedom. Even the whore Drusilla was going to marry well above her station. Brinson Barnes—and even the sawyer—had finished with Drusilla long before the trade for Harper's young girl servant two years ago.

      When Richard betrayed his shock, James Barnes spat on the ground and called him "an innocent babe who hasn't learned his cock from his thumb."

      "Does Harper know about her? If it's true," Richard added.

      "It's true enough," the drunken man replied. "And if he don't know, he's the biggest fool in Gloucester County, he is!"

      "Well, you best mind your tongue, I think, or you'll be losing it!" Richard said.

      Dangerous talk about a woman who'd fed them all and nursed them through their gripes and varmint bites. A woman who'd nursed the Devilpossessed Evelyn. A woman who'd soon be mistress over them. And even if she had given pleasure to other men before she came to Pine Haven, why should they turn on her now? Barnes's jealousy would be his ruin.

      On a bright, cold morning three days before his wedding, Francis Harper gave the men an extra pint of beer and announced that they were going processioning. This ritual, repeated every few years for every plantation, led friends and neighbors around the perimeter of a man's land so that boundaries were observed and acknowledged by all. Trees were re-marked as necessary, or a stone might replace a dying tree. It was generally a convivial day of friendship to renew or continue the understanding of ownership or to acquaint new neighbors of territorial limits. Robert Sawyer was anxious that the friendly company bestow upon him the welcome and acceptance of his arrival. The land of Brinson Barnes came to him with the widow.

      James Barnes and Richard Williams were included in the procession as porters of food and drink for the planters. Barnes carried his own flask of rum as Richard walked with Edward, sharing a flagon of their own. By noon, the men had reached the southwest corner of the Barnes—now Sawyer—property. They stopped to eat in a cleared area that was warmed by sunlight. The marker for this corner was an old tulip tree that had been struck by lightening, and the men had to devise a new marker for this limit.

      "By rights, this should all be mine," Barnes told Richard and Edward. "'Cutpurse' the sawyer took it from me. Like he always takes what he wants. Watch out when he comes for your new mum," he said to Edward.

      Edward frowned and started for the man, but Richard stopped him with the offer of half a chicken and a yam. Barnes muttered to himself and walked off into the woods.

      Richard was calming Edward with the tale of a new girl he'd seen at church, when Barnes emerged into the clearing with a branch broken from the dead tulip tree. He ran for Sawyer yelling, "Thief and fornicator, I'll tell it all!" He held the branch above his head, aiming for his enemy. But Sawyer grabbed the club and pulled it from the man's hand. He swung his fist into Barnes's face and then again into the stunned man's stomach. With the club in both hands, Sawyer shoved Barnes into the rotting tulip tree.

      Bees flew from the rotten trunk and dispersed the non-fighting processioners. Barnes lay by the stump, and—though all who witnessed it later said he was only stung by two of the insects—he screamed in agony and, as the bees flew away, the men could see Barnes begin to swell. Within minutes the man's throat had swollen larger than his thigh and the screaming ceased. Soon the thrashing ceased, and he lay dead.

      The men and boys knew they were in the presence of God or of the Devil. All said a prayer, and most of them snapped their fingers or walked backwards or did whatever they thought might mollify the Evil One if this had been his work. Who knew what evil spirits of the Indians were still about to send this "English fly," as the Indians called the bee?

      The death of this valuable servant cast a melancholy spirit over Harper and Drusilla's wedding day. Some guests whispered of it as a bad omen for the Harper's union. As a guest, the new Mistress Sawyer was silent, except to give warm wishes to the new couple. No one blamed Sawyer for defending himself, though a cloud of vague suspicion hovered. Richard searched for a meaning in the strange death and could only conclude that some Higher Being had wanted Barnes silenced. Life, and everything around them, was a mystery. Was God saving Sawyer for good deeds in the future, or was the Dark One protecting him— and perhaps Drusilla—for future Evil Deeds? It was no natural death to die from two bee stings. The community agreed on that, and the church congregation was large and reverential for many weeks afterwards.

      The loss of Barnes's needed strong hand, plus the costs of the servant's funeral and of Harper's wedding, following so closely on each other, placed Harper in a difficult position. Sawyer sensed his neighbor's financial problem and, himself, made an offer of help. He would loan Francis Harper what he needed to purchase three more servants, provided Sawyer was given the headrights for the three, fifty-acres of land they would bring, and a short-term mortgage on one hundred acres of Pine Haven. In addition, he would make arrangements to hire out young Richard Williams for his skills in felling trees and handling tools. Captain Bartolomew Ingolbreitsen, a Dutch trader of some reputation—and, somehow, a friend of Sawyer's—was hard-pressed for workers to complete the courthouse he had contracted to build in Lower Norfolk County.

      For Francis Harper it was a welcome solution. Richard, Billy, and James had cleared all the land that could be cultivated with three new workers, and the income Richard would earn Harper for the work in Lower Norfolk would help repay Sawyer's loan.

      The servants Sawyer brought to Harper were not all that could be hoped for. They were cold and sullen men who were captured soldiers from Cromwell's Republican army. With the Restoration of His Majesty, King Charles II, many prisoners of war were being dispersed throughout the colony as servants. Those who came to Harper were a hard and bitter group, and he knew at once that they must be handled with exacting firmness. A man's wife and children were under constant threat. The loss of runaway servants could ruin a man if they disappeared at harvest time. Edward's jobs now included that of guard and jailer.