Dangerous Dreams: A Novel (55 page)

“I’ve not been on this earth long enough to know for certain, but I suppose they can . . . still, I’d be surprised at such from Master Hugh Tayler . . . though it could be
you’ve
changed him. I don’t know.” He looked into her eyes. “Mistress Emily, I can see you don’t want to let go; and perhaps he
has
changed; but until you’re certain, I plead with you to
never
allow yourself to be alone with him. Please . . . always be in sight of others and—”

“Hello, Emily, Johnny,” Emme Merrimoth said. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

Emily smiled. “Hello, Emme.” As her expressionless, unseeing eyes watched Emme and Johnny converse, her logical, decisive mind grappled with her feelings over Hugh Tayler. Perhaps he
has
changed, she thought. Perhaps I should go on as if nothing has happened, see where it goes. I
do
care strongly for him . . . at least I did. But Johnny fears for me, says there’s much more to tell. Can I take the chance? But what if I confront him and he claims it isn’t true, as he’ll probably do. What then? I know what. I’ll have to decide who’s telling the truth. But I already know that, so why complicate it by giving him the chance to deny it? Accept the truth, Emily, the pain of having been deceived; be done with him now . . . even if it hurts.

She thought of George—again wished she could have fallen in love with him—conjured her fading hope that he might somehow have survived. We would’ve been quite good together. Love would’ve come to me eventually; for no more honest, caring man ever lived on the earth. Still, I never felt the raw passion and delirious love I expect to feel for the man I marry; and while I felt considerably more for Hugh, ’twas still short of my expectations. So perhaps as Master Howe told me that night on Roanoke, our
situation has played tricks on us, made us feel things we wouldn’t otherwise feel. Lord, please guide my heart and mind to the right decision. A sudden image of Manteo’s friend, whom she’d met at Roanoke, raced through her mind, spread an unexpected warm glow through her body and mind. I wonder if I’ll see him at Chesapeake.

As they reached the main and headed west toward the forest, Emily took a last glimpse of the sound, envisioned George and his father smiling at her, then Elyoner and Ananias anxiously awaiting her arrival. She shuddered as she thought of the Savage who’d nearly killed her, then thought of the storm, the wreck, the ordeal on the outer banks.

A half hour later, they entered a forest as dense as that at Roanoke and soon after came to a gentle stream about twenty feet wide.

Baylye, who was in front, yelled, “Water!”

They raced to the stream, plunged wholesale into the cool current, lay or knelt on the side, buried their faces in it. Emily knelt on the bank, a little off from the others, leaned over, took a sip as Gibbes had suggested, then another, and another, then abruptly plunged face first into the water, rolled to her back, kicked her legs up and down to wash the sand from between them and sooth her rash. Blessed Lord, this is heavenly. She rolled onto her knees, hands on the bottom, dipped her face into the water again and again as she sipped with each plunge; swooshed the water through her hair; stood to remove her shirt and the remnants of her skirt, then fell back into the water; lay on her back with her legs spread upstream, reveled in the refreshing coolness that flowed to the tops of her thighs; laid her head back, swallowed water as it flowed over her face. When she finally stood again, oblivious to the presence of others, she let out a loud whoop, extended her arms, twisted her torso back and forth, then splashed up and down with the jubilance of a child on Christmas morning.

Suddenly she felt eyes upon her and stopped. Glancing down at her front, she saw that her wet smock clung like a second skin to every curve and indentation of her body, revealing her firm, round breasts, her nipples erect from the cool water, the small mound between her legs. She felt her tiny waist, the small, tight curves of her bum and hips. “God’s blessed mother,” she whispered, “I’m as good as naked.” She plopped back
down into the stream, looked around giggling, slipped back into her outer garments, then sat in the water, smiling a mischievous smile to herself. A rather bawdy display, Mistress Colman . . . but how delightful . . . like a little girl again. Pray Father didn’t see. She laughed out loud. He’d surely die of embarrassment. She looked around, ensured no one was watching; laid back, leaned her head on a smooth rock, closed her eyes; softly eased her hands over her breasts then across the insides of her thighs, suddenly thought again of Manteo’s friend, and again felt unfamiliar warmth permeate her. She shook her head. Lord, prithee someday give me a true, loving man with a gentle touch, to summon forth, and then drown himself in, the passions hidden within me.

Her inner voice broke her trance. “Emily! You daydreaming twit! Gather your wits. Quit thinking like a hussy.” She thought of her mother. Yes, Mother, ’tis our ordeal . . . lost my good sense for a moment. Fear not. I remain chaste . . . the fair young woman you raised, and—

“Friends,” Roger Baylye said, “thank the Lord for your deliverance, then rest yourselves. We’ll remain here until morning and use the remaining light to search for food. Sergeant Myllet, would you see to the prisoner? Then post some sentries, including civilians, around us. Every man shall stand a shift . . . no matter how tired we are.”

“Aye, sir.” Myllet and two other soldiers shoved Clement rudely to his knees, pushed his face into the water, and held it there until he began to squirm and try to raise his head for air. Myllet pulled his head up by his hair, let him gasp twice, said, “We ought to drown you now, Clement, save the judge the trouble of hanging you. They used to do that, you know.” He stuffed Clement’s face back into the water, held it until he again squirmed for air.

In spite of Baylye’s and Myllet’s misgivings, they built a fire to cook the frogs they caught. They also killed three of the animals that hung from trees by their rat-like tails and were bigger than a large, plump tomcat. Then three soldiers who had hiked back to the marshes at the north end
of the sound returned, their shirts laden with frogs and oysters. They had also encountered a large, aggressive snake with a big, triangular head and a thick, yellowish body with black-edged, triangular bands over its entire length. It had struck at one of the men as they walked beside a swamp, but its fangs had gotten caught in his baggy pants; one of the others had quickly grabbed it by the tail and torn it free, flung it away, then killed it with a heavy branch and a big rock. They had cut its head off, pried its mouth open with their knives and found it to be cottony white on the inside, with a pair of long, curved fangs; they decided it was poisonous like the adders of England. When it had stopped writhing, they had skinned it and brought it to the camp to be roasted along with the other meat; even those who were squeamish about eating frog and snake were hungry enough to relish the savory meal.

Immediately after the meager feast, most scattered around the clearing, stretched out on the ground, and fell asleep. But as darkness encroached, another chilly rain began to fall. Many retreated to the shelter of large trees and resumed their exhausted sleep; while others remained by the fire, added wood to grow the flames and dry their clothing, even as the rain dampened it, until they, too, fell asleep, oblivious to the steady downpour upon them.

Roger Baylye stood under a tree with Myllet, Gibbes, Thomas Colman, and Christopher Cooper; all wiped rain from their foreheads and faces. Baylye said, “When I went to Chesapeake for the initial meeting, we sailed around a horn into the south part of the bay, and along the south shore past two large estuaries with a small one in between. We then sailed a mile or two south into the westernmost estuary and landed near the Chesapeake village. I’ll recognize that estuary if we walk back to the coast, follow north, and go around that horn to the west. But I fear the first estuary will be impassable on foot, which will force us to march back south to a favorable crossing point and waste much time.” He brushed the rain from his forehead with his forearm. “Still, ’tis the only way we’ll know our bearings for certain, and ’twill be far less risky than searching our way through an unknown forest without a compass, with the possibility of encountering hostile Savages—especially with no weapons to defend ourselves. But on the other side, following the coast, while safer, will take several days
longer than going straight through the forest . . . if we can keep our bearings in there.” He surveyed their faces, read no opinions. “But remember, Lieutenant Waters and the others don’t know we came up the sound or that we were wrecked by the storm; so when they finally decide we’re overdue—probably not before tomorrow morning—they’ll search for us along the coast with canoes,
not
in the forest. If we can capture their attention with a fire or some other means when they pass, I think we’ll have a good chance of being rescued before we walk too far. Considering all factors, I therefore believe the coastal route to be our safest choice, as well as the one that offers the
only
chance of rescue.

Myllet sleeved the rainwater from his brow. “I see your logic, Gov’nor, but in addition to being a much shorter distance, won’t the forest offer us more drinking water, shelter, and food?”

“Aye. There’s no question about it.” Baylye squeezed his lips together, nodded several times, studied the ground for a moment, then looked up. “So perhaps there’s another approach: send two or three back to the coast to prepare a signal fire and wait for the rescue party’s appearance to light it, while the rest of us remain here in the shelter and shade of the forest and periodically resupply or replace the three on the coast.” He saw doubt in their eyes then the light of an idea on Myllet’s face. “What are you thinking Michael?”

“Well, Sir, I’m thinking we might be smart to do two things. I agree they’ll search for us along the coast; but instead of the main body waiting
here
, what if we proceed through the forest . . . the village can’t be more than a day away, if that far. Meanwhile, the three on the coast can do as you propose, taking turns resupplying each other from the forest. If and when they’re rescued, they can tell the lieutenant to send searchers into the forest to find the rest of us . . . if we haven’t yet found
them
. That way, if the search party along the coast is delayed or misses the three, the rest of us will be ever closer to the village. Verily, we’ve no perfect choice, but I think most would rather take their chances in the forest than suffer more days on that bloody hot shoreline without shelter from the sun.”

Baylye nodded, glanced at Colman and Cooper. “Thomas . . . Christopher . . . your thoughts?”

Colman said, “Sergeant Myllet’s idea is sound . . . certainly the best of a distasteful lot. I say we do it.”

Cooper said, “I, as well, Roger. I like the idea of moving toward the destination better than waiting.”

Gibbes said, “I’ll wait on the coast.”

Baylye nodded at Gibbes. “So be it.” He then eyed Myllet, who was about to speak. “Sergeant Myllet, I know you’re about to volunteer to wait with Sergeant Gibbes, but we can’t afford to have both of you on the coast. One of you must remain with the main body and the other soldiers.”

Myllet smiled. “You’ve caught me, Sir.”

Baylye grinned. “Then we’re agreed. Pick two soldiers to accompany Sergeant Gibbes . . . actually, if a civilian wants to go, I’m agreeable with that, as well.”

Cooper raised his hand. “I’ll go, Roger.”

Baylye smiled, nodded, thumped Cooper on the shoulder. “Good, Christopher. Thank you.” He looked at Myllet. “Now pick another soldier, and we’ll be on our way at daybreak.” He drifted his gaze from man to man, nodded. “Oh! One last thing. We’ve no weapons other than two swords, and we cannot face malevolent Savages with bare hands. So every man must arm himself with a club of some sort. My friends, we’ve suffered greatly these last days. So pray this ordeal soon comes to an end. Now, let’s all find a leafy tree and try to get some rest in this damnable rain.”

Myllet pulled Johnny Gibbes to him for a brief hug. “Godspeed on the morrow, my friend.”

“Thee, as well, Michael.”