Dangerous Dreams: A Novel (41 page)

The first voyage had been gone for two days. They had sailed the short distance to the gap in the outer banks a little south of Roanoke Island, then out to the sea and north up the coast toward Chesapeake. The salt crew at work on the outer banks had watched them until they blended into the horizon. And though only thirty had sailed, it might well have been three times that number, for those who remained at Roanoke were wrapped in the same blanket of isolation, despair, and fear they had felt when John White and Fernandez departed for England. Though all were eager to see the last of Roanoke Island, they felt a persistent flutter of apprehension in their bellies,
the ever-present fear of the unknown; so they’d busied themselves by carefully packing cups and saucers, candlesticks, dishes, pots, pans, bedding, clothes, linens, and more; collecting furniture, trunks, lead shot, weapons, tools, and small amounts of food in the assembly area.

The Assistants had assigned personal belongings to specific voyages; and many second-voyage people had sent their belongings on the first voyage, while many third-voyage people, including George and the Colmans, would send theirs on the second voyage three days hence. Since the cottage George shared with several other bachelors was rather crowded, the Colmans had retained most of his and his father’s belongings in their cottage. The three had just finished a meager noon meal and were about to resume packing when Thomas Colman was summoned to an Assistants’ meeting. Perhaps because George was younger than Emily and Colman knew Emily was not romantically inclined toward him, he had never had misgivings about the two being alone together and so, said a casual goodbye then stepped outside.

George and Emily had not been alone together since before the massacre, and there was a nervous, awkward tension in the room as they resumed packing. Emily’s head bandage had been removed, and her facial bruises were nearly gone, but because it was still tender, her left arm remained covered in a thick wrap of protective bandages. She had tried fewer bandages, but had frequently bumped the arm painfully on various objects and therefore decided it needed heavy padding to protect it until it was better healed.

After five minutes of silence, George faced Emily, took her hands in his, stared into her eyes. “Emily, I want to tell you how very sorry I am for the way I treated you that day. I . . . I was not myself. My head was spinning, aching, screaming at me to run from everything associated with Father’s death . . . and sadly, you bore the brunt of my insanity. I can’t imagine how horrible you must have felt. I know I said awful things . . . I cannot even remember what they were; but I
do
remember they were terrible, hurtful, unjust things.” He hesitated as his voice cracked and tears found their way into his eyes and down his cheeks. “Em, I’m so sorry.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her to him, felt her warmth flow through his body.

Emily leaned her head against his chest, felt his heart pounding, as soft, compassionate tears glazed her eyes like morning dew on a crisp fall day. “George, you need not apologize. You were possessed, overcome by grief. Yes, I
was
hurt, but Ellie helped me understand what you were going through, and I then felt only deep frustration that I could not help you.” After a silence, she said, “You know, George, we’ve gone through a lot in our short time here, and other than our relationships with each other, and Virginia’s birth, most of it has been sad. Our courage and fortitude are about all we have left; but with God’s help, perhaps we’ll prosper at Chesapeake.”

George pulled back slowly, looked into her eyes. “Emily, you’re so strong and courageous. Would that I had half your courage.”

“But you do, George. Else you wouldn’t have come to my rescue and probably saved my life. For certain, another blow to the head would have killed me.”

“That’s different, Em. ’Twas
spontaneous
courage . . . not the strength of character
you
have. But I told Father when I prayed at his grave that I’d do everything I can to help this colony succeed and prosper, no matter what the dangers, and thus it shall be. Emily”—his look hardened as his eyes probed deep into hers—“as I told you the day you awoke . . . I love you. I love you more than my own life, more than anything I can imagine in this world. I know you don’t feel that same love for me; but Emily, I will wait until you do . . . even until the last moment of my life. I shall always love you.”

They embraced, held each other in silence. George felt her breasts pressed against him, their smooth rise and fall with her breathing. His mind swam in a sea of emotion filled with the flush of her warmth, the depth of his love and commitment, the absence of hers, his desperate hope that time would win her.

Emily’s heart writhed with anguish as she wrestled for a response. She wanted to tell him she really
did
love him, but couldn’t lie; wanted to say she loved him enough to give it time to grow, but knew such faint encouragement would be unkind; considered telling him that it could
never
be, but refused to hurt him. In the end, she decided he already understood her
feelings and reaffirming them would only worsen his pain, decided to say nothing, and responded with the firmness of her body against his.

After a moment, George said, “ Em, I must ask you something.”

“What is it, George?”

“ ’Tis awkward asking you this, but . . . is it true Hugh Tayler’s courting you?”

The Assistants had decided that when the colony arrived at Chesapeake, the women, like Savage women, would be responsible for dressing the wild game shot by the colony’s hunters, thereby allowing the hunters more time to hunt. The women’s training was to begin immediately; so when three men led by Roger Prat, the colony’s most experienced hunter, shot a pair of does and a fawn, Emily, Elyoner, and several other women began their instruction by watching Prat as he gutted the animals prior to hanging them for curing. None had seen the process before, so moans and gasps filled the air around Prat as he cut a doe’s throat to allow the blood to bleed out. He then cut out some dark, bulgy areas below the hind knees. “These are the scent glands . . . very smelly . . . ruin the meat if you don’t get rid of them.” He promptly buried them in a hole and washed his hands in a bucket of water that sat by the deer. Next he cut around the animal’s anus and cut the skin upward the length of the belly to the neck. “We’ll leave the skin on until after the animal’s cured and we’re ready to butcher and cook it, a few days before we depart. Now here’s how you gut it. Remember, you must have a very sharp knife for this.” Prat had a mischievous twinkle in his eye and seemed to be enjoying the ladies’ disgust at having to observe the process.

He cut the belly open from in front of the anus up to the rib cage. The stench from the cavity drifted out, hit the women like a sharp slap in the face. All but Emily turned away, covered their mouths and noses. “You’ll either need a man with a knife, or a saw like this one, to cut through the chest.” He held up a short, pointed saw with fine teeth. “And always go to the side of the chest plate, or you’ll never get through it.”

After he completed the cut, he said, “Now all of you gather in close so you can see this part.” Only Emily did as he asked. “Come, ladies, ’tis not that bad. You’ll soon be doing this yourselves, and you must do it properly, so please give me your attention.” The others reluctantly inched closer. “There are a few things to cut before you can take the innards out: two places where the lungs attach to the rib cage, this tube from the throat, and these canals that go to the heart.” He had made the cuts as he pointed out each piece. “Now I want each of you to put your hands on all of the guts so you get used to the feel of them . . . and the smell. You’ll think nothing of it after a few times. So, who’s first?”

Most of the women groaned in disgust.

Emily knelt beside Prat. “I’ll do it.” She no longer wore her forearm bandage but had attached her long sleeves for protective padding; so she pulled up her right sleeve, ran her hand over every piece of the innards, smiled at Prat. “ ’Tis not so bad, still warm.”

“Good,” he said. “Now pull the guts out.”

Without hesitation, she reached inside the cavity and pulled the innards onto the ground.

“Very good, Mistress.” He then pointed at several items in the gut pile. “This is the stomach, the bladder, the liver, and the heart. And these are the intestines—we clean and save them for making sausage.” He smiled at the looks of revulsion on their faces. “Now this is very important. You don’t want to rupture the bladder or the intestines while they’re still in the animal, for ’twill ruin the meat. Now I’m told the Savages use stomachs for water bags, and we can do the same if we become short of water buckets though you’d probably want to use a buck’s stomach because it’s larger. Also, the heart and the liver are very good to eat when properly cooked.

Emily asked, “So how do you cut the heart and liver free?”

“Ah, you’re a good student, Mistress Colman . . . right here.” He put his hand around the heart and pointed at the canals leading into it, handed Emily his knife. “Here, go ahead and cut it out.”

Again without hesitation, Emily took the heart in her left hand and the knife in her right, cut the heart free, then held it up with both hands for the other women to see. “Manteo told me the Savages eat the heart and liver
raw and drink some of the blood because it gives them the strength and spirit of the animal that’s sacrificed its life. I want to do it.”

Disgusted moans again rippled through the group.

Elyoner said, “Emily Colman, are you turning savage? Perhaps that blow to your head did more than we thought.”

Emily laughed. “I’m serious. I want to try it.”

Prat looked shocked. “Well, it wouldn’t be for me, Mistress . . . and I wish I could tell you to go ahead, but Governor Baylye instructed me to put all the meat together, so it can be cooked and rationed. Perhaps you’ll have your chance at Chesapeake when we’ve more game. So, if you will, pass the heart around to the other ladies, so all can feel it.” More disgusted groans. “Mistress Dare, why don’t you kneel where Mistress Colman is and touch the innards a bit. You other ladies should do the same.”

Emily passed the heart to Jane Mannering then washed her hands in the bucket of water.

Elyoner said, “I don’t think I can do this. I’m going to spill my
own
guts.”

“Elyoner, show some courage,” said Emily. “ ’Tis really nothing—just gooey, slimy, bloody, and sticky. Don’t be a coward!”

Elyoner frowned, knelt beside Emily, touched the guts, manipulated them a little, then stood to let the next woman do the same. “You’re right, Em. ’Tis not so bad . . . certainly no worse than dealing with a baby’s bottom.”

Prat said, “Very good, ladies. Now the last thing is to take a rod like this”—he held up a two-foot-long iron rod—“and stick the ends between these tendons, here, and the legs—behind and just above the knees—to hang the animal to cure. And if the ends of your rod aren’t hooked like this gambrel, to keep the rod from going all the way through, you’ll need to tie them tightly with something to keep them in place, so the legs remain spread. You can use a sturdy piece of green wood if you don’t have a rod. Next you tie a rope to the middle of the rod and call a man or another woman to help you; then throw the rope over a sturdy tree limb, hoist the animal up high so other animals can’t reach it, and tie the end securely to the tree trunk. And that’s the end of your training for today, ladies. Those of you who are still here a few days before the final
voyage can help me skin, butcher, and cook these deer for our first meal at Chesapeake.”

“Thank you, Master Prat,” said Elyoner, “for turning our stomachs. But ’twas indeed informative.”

Emily said, “Thank you, Master Prat. I’ll help you do the skinning when ’tis time, if I may. And Elyoner, please speak only for your
own
stomach. Mine’s quite settled.”

Roger Prat smiled, nodded at Emily, then dragged the deer to a tree and hung it to cure. The women then dispersed to other activities. As Emily and Elyoner neared Elyoner’s cottage, Hugh Tayler approached, nodded, tipped the brim of his hat. “Good morning, ladies. Only seven days until the final voyage. Doesn’t the very thought of it raise your spirits?”