Roanoke (The Keepers of the Ring) (16 page)

White gazed wordlessly at the sight.
Melon vines had overtaken the lower floors of all the buildings, and a small herd of deer stopped grazing among the vines and lifted velvet brown eyes to stare at the interlopers. Unafraid, they lowered their heads for a last bite before turning to amble away.

Behind him, the flintlock of a musket clicked, and White held up a restraining hand.
“Do not fire,” he said, not even glancing over his shoulder. “The noise will travel to the ears of the savages. Our advantage persists as long as they are ignorant of our presence.”

George Howe
’s pale round face was streaked with perspiration and his hands trembled upon his musket. “Is there anything to fear?”

“
Not yet,” White answered, his eyes expertly scanning the interior of the fort and the standing trees beyond the clearing. When he was convinced they were alone, he motioned for the men to fan out, and they walked carefully through the area surrounding the fort. Grenville’s fifteen apparently had not been here in some time, for all the fire pits had been washed clean by rain and not a single house had been kept clear of the encroaching vines and weeds.

The sea breeze blew a cloud in front of the burning sun, and White sighed in gratitude.
The heat could bake a man inside his doublet . . .

“
Governor! Here lies a man!”

The line broke, and all hurried toward Ambrose Viccars, who stood white-faced and pointed to a bleached skeleton in the sand.
The crushed skull lay above the tattered uniform and rusted breastplate of an English soldier, but between the elements and the area’s wildlife, most of the unfortunate soldier’s bones had been spirited away.

“
One of the fifteen,” White murmured, watching in fascination as a spider peered out at them from one of the clean sockets of the skull. “We must see if others lie nearby.”

“
First we must bury this man,” Thomas Colman interrupted, his voice booming like thunder over the group. “‘Tis our Christian duty and I must insist that we see to it immediately.”

“
It can wait,” interjected Ananias Dare, “for if we find others, ‘twould be more convenient to hold a common burial.”

White glanced uneasily between the two men, both of whom were now related to him.
“Reverend, do what you must with these bones,” he directed, gesturing toward the skeleton. “Ananias, direct these men to fan out and search for others. Be wary. And Thomas—” White turned to Colman again. “When you are done with the burial, bestow a blessing on each of these houses. Unless Simon Fernandes proves willing to carry us forward to Chesapeake, I expect we will occupy them before nightfall.”

Later that afternoon, as the men continued to scour the island for signs of the living or dead, John White called his son-in-law and Thomas Colman to his side.
“Would that my brother were here,” he fumed, squatting in the shade of the large house that had once belonged to Governor Lane. “He would guide the decision I must make regarding Simon Fernandes. Robert was never a man of action, but he always knew his mind.”

“
Your decision should be simple,” Ananias spoke up. “You are the governor appointed by Sir Walter Raleigh. Mutiny, if need be. With Fernandes in chains, the crew will have to sail us to Chesapeake.”

“
It is not that simple,” Thomas interrupted, his dark eyes flashing. “You have not mingled with the seamen, Ananias, and I have walked often among them. They respect their captain, and would not support us in a mutiny. ‘Tis more likely they’d pitch us and our goods into the sea, for their hearts are set on capturing the treasure Fernandes has promised. We should be grateful the captain brought us this far.”

“
Chesapeake is a better land, with a better harbor,” White said, thinking aloud. “But there’s no gainsaying that the savages there are more hostile. Here we are among Manteo’s people, and have an ally—”

“
You told us Lane mistreated the Indians here,” Ananias retorted. “And if we stay, we will surely reap the consequences of Ralph Lane’s folly!”

“
Would you have your wife give birth aboard the ship in view of a hundred eyes?” White flamed into anger. “At least here my daughter would have a roof over her head!”

“
What of the others, sir?” Thomas said, the deep baritone of his voice cooling the fevered temper of both men. “All would be subjected to hardship if forced to remain aboard ship much longer. Perchance there is a compromise, gentlemen. Why not winter here on Roanoke, and move northward in the Spring? Then we will have a better idea of our situation, our women would be settled, the savages befriended.”

White rocked back on his heels, mollified.
The minister spoke the truth. And as long as ‘twas known that John White had agreed to stay at Roanoke for the good of the colony and not because of the wiles of Simon Fernandes, all would be well.

“
That shall be our plan, then,” White said, rising . He nodded toward the others and brushed his hands. “We will settle here immediately, put in a quick corn crop, secure peace with our savage neighbors, and move toward the Chesapeake before planting time in the Spring.”

He strode confidently away from the house, only dimly aware of the uncomfortable silence that had fallen between the two men he left behind.

At White’s command, Ananias lit a smoky signal fire on the beach and the remaining passengers aboard the
Lion
knew ‘twas safe to join the others. Fernandes ordered the
Lion’s
shallop to be lowered to the water so supplies and passengers could be ferried ashore. The men went first, then the shallop returned for the women. Jocelyn held Eleanor’s hand as they negotiated the narrow plankway between the ship and the small boat.

“
Faith, and wouldn’t you know the baby’s kicking,” Eleanor said, laughing nervously with one hand on Agnes’ broad shoulder and the other extended backward to Jocelyn. Behind Jocelyn, Audrey squealed fearfully with each step and steadfastly refused to look down at the water beneath her feet. Jocelyn tugged at the dead weight of Audrey’s hand and idly considered slapping the silliness out of the girl. Servants were supposed to be a help, not a hindrance.

Once all seventeen women were safely aboard the shallop, the small boat pulled away from the side of the
Lion
and passed through the narrow inlet between the barrier islands. To the left and right of the boat were stretches of sandy, grass-strewn shore dotted with the tallest trees Jocelyn had ever seen. Such trees were rare in England except on wealthy estates, for daily fires had consumed many of England’s forests.

The island of Roanoke rose as a mountain of tall trees rising from the gray-brown water, and Jocelyn gasped at her first sight of it.
Gnarled oaks bent low to the ground behind the shoreline, limbs growing askew as if cowering before the force of ocean winds. As the boat neared the point of landing, a group of men waved in greeting and hurried forward to lend a hand to the women who would have to wade through the water to reach shore.

While her cousin and the servants twittered nervously and lifted their skirts to avoid the water, Jocelyn stepped confidently to the side of the boat and spurned a grinning sailor who offered to carry her to shore. She turned and stepped instead into the cool saltwater and felt the sea cover her boots and tug on her suddenly heavy skirt.

While Audrey squealed in the distance that she did not want to get wet, Jocelyn awkwardly trudged forward.
The discomfort of wet clothing was of no importance. Being home was all that mattered.

While the other women waited in an anxious knot on the beach, Jocelyn followed the wide trail of footprints in the sand and came to the fort.
Inside the wooden walls she found her uncle pouring over a sheaf of papers with Ananias Dare.

“
Uncle,” she said, pausing by his side. He glanced up at her, distracted. “I would like to know what I should do. I’m here to work.”

His tired face rearranged itself into a grin.
“Ah, Jocelyn, my practical niece. Well, we are fortunate, dear, that the houses still stand. There,” he put his arm on her shoulder, turning her toward the opening of the many-sided fort. “The houses are grouped outside the fort, do y’see? I’ll share that largest house with Ananias and Eleanor and the servants. Thirteen houses will be provided for our families, one house for the two Indians, one house for Roger Bailie, Christopher Cooper, and Thomas Stevens and their servants, and seven houses will shelter ten unmarried men each. The remaining four buildings will be storehouses for our corn, arms, and tools.”

His arm fell from her shoulders and he turned back to his notes.
“You can help, dear girl, by going ‘round the circle and making sure the women have found their way into their proper houses. Take this list—” he thrust a freshly marked parchment toward her, “and make your rounds as soon as possible. For today, we must leave it to you women to make the houses habitable. I need every man to prepare the fort in case of an attack.”

“
Yes, sir,” she said glancing over the list in her hand. With the chill shock of recognition she saw her own name, listed as “Reverend Thomas, Mistress Jocelyn Colman, and Audrey Tappan, servant,” among the family groups.

A family!
She had yet to spend an hour, a single night totally alone with her husband. How could they be considered a family?

Elizabeth Viccars grumbled good-naturedly about the tangle of vines carpeting her new house, but she deposited her sleeping son into the arms of Emme Merrimoth, her maid, and dismissed Jocelyn with a smile.

“
‘Tis better to sleep amongst vines than on that rank ship,” she said, placing her hands on her ample hips as she looked around. “Don’t you worry, we’ll tend to our own house and not be a bother.”

Next to the Viccars
’ house, young Wenefrid Powell directed her four-year-old nephew, William Wythers, to run outside and help Thomas Smart, the family servant. Wenefrid was Jocelyn’s age and her husband only eighteen, and for a moment Jocelyn was tempted to ask her thoughts about marriage and husbands. But Wenefrid had work to do and a youngster to watch, so Jocelyn wished her a good day and moved on to the next house.

Joyce Archard stood in the rubble of her new home with her ten-year-old son, Thomas, clinging to her skirt.
The boy had been sick with a cou
gh for the entire journey, and coughed even now as he stared miserably at the house. The Archards’ servant, eighteen-year-old Margaret Lawrence, stood with her hands on her hips and declared, “I’faith, I can’t believe it! I would as lief sleep in the woods as in this weed patch!”

Next to the Archards
’, the heavily pregnant Margery Harvie tried to pluck melon vines from the mud between the logs of her house while Jane Pierce, her servant, struggled to push their trunk into the interior of the shelter. The small house next door stood in remarkably good condition, and Jocelyn saw on her list that it had been assigned to John and Jane Jones, the doctor and his wife who had no children and only one servant, Joan Warren.

Next door to the doctor, Jane Mannering had energetically set about clearing the Chapmans
’ house, while in the next dwelling Rose Payne of Suffolk immediately set her servant, Beth Glane, to work while she sat on a trunk to stare out a window. “Why is Eleanor Dare’s house much bigger than mine?” she asked, her voice an annoying whine in the hot afternoon.

“
Thou shalt do all things without murmuring or disputing,” Beth answered, moving like a dark shadow through the house in her somber black kirtle and bodice. Despite the heat, the servant wore a black bonnet devoid of any decoration, and Jocelyn wondered how the spoiled Rose and devout Beth had learned to coexist.
Perhaps they balance each other
, Jocelyn thought as she moved on to the next residence.

White-haired Alice Chapman stood in the center of the clearing with a lost look on her face, and Jocelyn pointed out the house where her servant Jane was already at work.
Alice’s husband, John, had given up his Anglican church in Suffolk and journeyed to America with hopes of becoming a planter. If Rose Payne continued to whine, Jocelyn thought guiltily, perhaps the saintly influence of the elderly John Chapman would sweeten her spirit. In any case, the devoutly religious Beth Glane would doubtless find comfort in living so near a former cleric.

Roger Prat and his son, John, had been assigned the next house, and George Howe and his son, young George, were to be housed next to the Prats.
On the door of the next deserted building Jocelyn scrawled the name of John Sampson and his son, young John.

Her uncle had assigned the next house, which was larger than most, to the unmarried assistants:
Roger Bailie, Christopher Cooper, and Thomas Stevens. Bailie and Cooper each had a manservant, William Clement and James Hynde, respectively, so Jocelyn scratched the entire list of surnames onto the dried clay wall.

Manteo and Towaye would share a house, four houses were designated for storage, and seven houses would serve as barracks for the seventy unmarried men who completed the colony.