Dangerous Dreams: A Novel (39 page)

Baylye continued, “and as you know, we’re critically short of nearly everything we need to eat and drink.” The usual grumbles floated around the room as he unfolded his list. “Fortunately, the modest success of our hunters and fishermen has enabled us to stretch our shipborne rations considerably further than estimated. But even at that, people are quite famished and tempers short; and with the end of our supplies now in sight, the issue is whether the last of them occurs
here
or at Chesapeake. If we fill our bellies here, we’ll arrive at Chesapeake well-fed but with no food to initiate our new existence there. I doubt that the Chesapeakes—fine, friendly souls
that they are—will greet our arrival with platters of fresh fish, oysters, and deer . . . and they certainly have no beer.”

Snickers floated around the room.

“No, I think they’ll be expecting us to acquire those delicacies on our own. I would also call your remembrance to the fact that in 1585, Lane demanded that the Savages here at Roanoke feed him and his men, and that demand has been the root of nearly every ill that’s befallen both sides ever since. We have a chance for a new start with the Chesapeakes, and arriving with enough food to establish ourselves will stand us in far better stead than expecting them to provide for us.”

He looked from man to man, gauged their thinking, their feelings. They were restless, he thought, but more from frustration with events than anything else. “So, if you agree, we’ll stretch what we have to cover the first week of the entire colony’s presence at Chesapeake . . . and that means we go hungrier here or drastically increase our success at hunting, fishing, and foraging, all of which are complicated by the threat of attack.” He paused for comments, none came; wondered if the grim reality of their situation had finally sunk in, convincing them that they were precariously close to disaster and needed to take actions that matched their circumstances. “Fishing, of course, offers less exposure to the Savages, but in two days, the pinnace and one shallop will be completely engaged in transporting people, belongings, and equipment to Chesapeake, and thus will be unavailable for fishing. We also need boats to get to the mainland to hunt, given that little game remains here. But the Savages there have probably already taken most of the local animals, so we’d have to sail or row far up the river to find any measurable amount of game, which would waste much valuable time with no promise of success and far greater risk of attack.” He shook his head. “So I think before we depart, the only course is to harvest every animal we can find
here
, including small ones like squirrels, hare, the big-eyed animals with rat tails that hang from tree branches, and the mischievous ones with striped furry tails, and we must use arrows and other means to do so lest we expend our ammunition too quickly. At the same time, we must also fish with
all
of the boats for the remaining two days and with the unengaged shallop after that. We must also clam and crab like zealots until the
last voyage departs for Chesapeake twelve days from now. However, even though Manteo showed a few of us how to salt and dry fish and venison, we haven’t enough salt and time to do so. So we’ll eat the fresh food first and save the preserved food for Chesapeake.”

After general concurrence by the Assistants, Baylye observed that supplies of grain and yeast for beer brewing were nearly depleted because they had been used for food, which meant that until John White returned with more, they would have to use grain made from corn they bartered from the Savages,
if
the Savages were willing. He then proposed they cease making beer immediately, to avoid adding bulky cargo to the voyages, and take only what was already brewed, which would provide a modest initial supply at Chesapeake, where they would begin brewing with corn. He next discussed the salt-making operation on the outer banks, which, though laborious and logistically challenging, had met the colony’s seasoning needs at a fundamental level. He directed that the operations continue but at an accelerated pace, with all three vessels transporting salt crews to and from the outer banks each morning and evening, and fishing the rest of the day. Then when the pinnace and one shallop departed for Chesapeake, the remaining shallop would carry on until the final departure.

Baylye’s insides churned when he thought of the challenges ahead, the complication of approaching winter. One such challenge, a monumental one, would be the building of palisades. He had no idea how he’d persuade them to do so, given their weariness of palisade building, but at least they were now experienced and could perform the task much faster. But, he acknowledged, winter would probably preclude serious progress before spring and allow him plenty of time to concoct a compelling argument. It would have to be a good one, for many would counter that because they were with friendly Chesapeakes, palisades were unnecessary. Perhaps they’d be right; he hoped it would be so.

“Two more items, friends: the Chesapeake transportation plan and the election of a new Assistant to fill my former position since I’ve now replaced Governor White. Let’s discuss the move first. The plan has little flexibility for adjustments because the objective is to get most of the supplies and equipment, and a goodly number of people, up there on the first
two voyages. The first voyage will be two days from today—ten days before our final departure—and the second voyage will be five days before the final departure. John Hemmington will pilot the pinnace, while Peter Little and John Cheven will pilot the shallops. These three are our most experienced sailors, and I want them to know the sound and offshore well in case the weather turns on us. The first voyage will take thirty men and women, some with particular skills, as well as heavy equipment and enough personal belongings and supplies to sustain them for a few days. Twenty-four people will remain at Chesapeake with the five who are there now, to lay out the new village and begin building cottages. Six, including the three going to Croatan Island, will sail back here by way of Croatan. Henry and Rose Payne, and Charles Florrie, have volunteered to be our people at Croatan Island, and the returning voyage will deposit them there since they’ll then know where the Chesapeake village is. Sergeant Smith will head the contingent of soldiers; and John Bright, Cuthbert White, and William Willes will be the three Assistants responsible for governance.

“As I said, the second voyage will go to Chesapeake five days before our final departure and will also consist of thirty men and women and a large amount of baggage and equipment. Lieutenant Waters will be on this voyage; and Roger Prat, John Sampson, and Thomas Stevens will be the Assistants.” He looked at Thomas Colman. “Thomas, I thought it best to assign you and Emily to the last voyage to allow her as much recovery time as possible before traveling. Will that be acceptable?”

“Aye, it is, Roger. Thank you for the consideration.”

“Very well then . . . Oh, Dyonis and Ananias, since you’ve both welcomed new family members—” He frowned as a sudden surge of compassion flooded his mind. “Dyonis, please excuse me, I can’t begin to tell you the sorrow we feel over Margery’s death. My God, man, you bear it well. I could not be so strong in such circumstances.” He paused while the others offered their condolences to Dyonis Harvie. “But since you now have a fine, healthy young son to raise, I think it fair that you choose the voyage that best suits your needs.”

Dyonis rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “Thank you, Roger . . . all of you. I shall miss her greatly, but somehow young Henry and I shall persevere.
Thank you for your support.” He paused, collected himself. “So, since Elyoner Dare is nursing and caring for the boy, I’d like to send him with her and Ananias on whichever voyage they choose. I myself would like to go on the third voyage, so I may spend as much time as possible with Margery at her gravesite . . . probably the last times I’ll be with her.”

Baylye nodded, laid his hand on Dyonis’ shoulder. “So be it.” He looked at Ananias. “And you, Ananias?”

“We’ve discussed it and would prefer to go on the second voyage though when Elyoner hears Emily will be on the third, she may change her mind. But plan for us to be on the second voyage.”

“Done.” Baylye’s eyes then surveyed the entire group. “I will be on the last voyage with the remaining fifty-one; and by the bye, while the people on the first voyage are working on building the village at Chesapeake, we on the last voyage will be hunters, fishers, gatherers, and salt makers here at Roanoke.”

The last item of discussion was the election of a new Assistant. The nominees were Lieutenant William Waters and Hugh Tayler. There had been some concern about soldiers being involved in the colony’s governance, but Baylye had convinced them that it was appropriate, if not absolutely essential, given the colony’s circumstances. Thomas Colman had been unaware of Waters’ nomination when he nominated Tayler, and subsequently decided there could be no better candidate than Waters, making his selection unanimous.

When the meeting adjourned, all of the Assistants lauded Baylye on his thorough planning, expressed their joy at leaving Roanoke, their eagerness to get underway. After they departed his cottage, Baylye congratulated himself for conducting his first non-contentious meeting then cynically concluded that their situation was so severe, their choices so few, there really wasn’t much to contest; nonetheless, he felt a sustained uplift in spirits as he rethought the transportation plan, again acknowledged its soundness. As he chewed on a small piece of overcooked venison and swigged water instead of beer, he agreed with himself that the plan was as close to perfect as it could be, given their circumstances. Then with a slight shiver, he regretted the thought—bad luck to be prideful, for perfect plans seldom go
perfectly. And as he stared at a small sketch of his wife, who was back in England, he wondered what would go wrong with
this
plan.

Emily, her father, and Hugh Tayler had just finished dipping their eating knives in a bucket of warm water and wiping them dry on their sleeves. Though it was still warm in the cottage, a clean, fresh smell in the outside air hinted at a shift in the weather toward fall. Emily, who now wore only small bandages on her head and left arm, listened quietly as her father divulged his feelings about Queen Elizabeth.

“She’s been quite a good queen, I believe. Wouldn’t you agree, Hugh? Certainly, there have been the usual sendings of people to the Tower, and the headsman seems as busy as with her father, Henry, but she appears to be more of a people’s monarch than he was. What do you think?”

“Well, I would agree. But I also think the success of a monarch has much to do with who they choose as their close advisers; and perhaps more importantly, how well they filter the truth from all they’re told. Most advisers, it seems, work for their own good rather than the good of all. King Henry is a fine example, from what I’ve heard—well advised during the first part of his reign but later drifted off course due to the bad advice of certain advisers— but there’s no way we non-courtiers will ever know the truth of such matters. If anything, the Queen seems to be less easily misled than her father, which is good, though I’m told she
does
have her enemies; and as we all know, the bloody Catholics would have her gone in a breath if they could.”

“Yes, that’s true; and I find it interesting that there’s now such a sharp divide between us of the Church of England and the Catholics, given that most of us—our parents at least—were Catholic to begin with. I believe those who say that nothing divides like religion are quite correct, and—”

“Well, Father,” Emily interjected, “I think the entire idea of popes
or
kings telling people how to live is foolish. Jesus Christ Himself told us how to live, and I think we can follow his teachings on our own.”

Colman said, “Emily, you shouldn’t say such things. People have been burned at the stake for less. You’re lucky you’re here instead of in England.”

Tayler had never found religion but was nonetheless amazed at Emily’s candor—amazed and awed that a woman could be so forthright. But then again, he thought, maybe he wasn’t surprised after all. He’d seen enough of Emily to know she had her own mind—a deep, decisive mind, capable of surprises and sound judgments—admitted that her quickness of thought was one of the attractions that had plunged him ever deeper into the whirlwind of passion and love that possessed him.