Cate of the Lost Colony Page 17

  “I am fortunate to be no one’s servant,” I said. “I have no mistress or master, and I will have no husband either, if Roger Bailey is the best Virginia can offer.”

  “Don’t worry. No man here will have you for a wife because you are so willful,” said Eleanor, teasing me.

  “I have gotten my will. I wanted to come to Virginia,” I mused. “It is certainly not paradise, but if life were like heaven, dying would be a disappointment.”

  At this, Eleanor laughed and I did too. We laughed as we had not for months, so consumed with cares had we been. I started to feel light, like the flakes of snow that fell through the air. I might be hungry and thin, but I was still alive. I was not free from care, but my will was free. My place in this new, harsh world was mine to fashion. My dreams, which had lately grown dim, now filled my mind again, like unrecognized shadows that, with the dawn, show their bright, true shapes.

  But then I thought of poor Jane Pierce, my companion aboard the Lion. Now pregnant by Roger Bailey, what contentment could she dream of?

  Eleanor unlocked her father’s trunk. I laid aside the jumbled maps and sea charts, sketches, journals, and old invoices until I saw a sheaf of papers titled Thomas Harriot’s Vocabulary of the Algonkian Language.

  “This is what I was looking for,” I announced. “I will learn to speak Manteo’s language.”

  Eleanor merely raised her eyebrows, then turned to watch Virginia, who was learning to creep across the floor.

  Harriot’s pages were full of strange markings, and I soon realized he had created a new alphabet for the Indian sounds. Using the key and other notations, I was able to make sense of it. Then I practiced speaking out loud.

  Ananias complained about the “savage sounds” I was making. “It’s not proper for a woman to be a scholar,” he said. “Put that away.”

  “You do not rule me,” I said lightly. Eleanor laughed, for that phrase had become our joke, and Ananias had the goodwill to smile too.

  “Perhaps you should also learn Algonkian,” I said. “Someone besides Manteo should be able to speak to the Indians. He cannot always be at hand to translate.”

  Ananias’s good humor dissipated and he stamped out of the house. Eleanor gave me a look of distress.

  “He can barely sign his own name,” she said. “Most of the assistants can read and write a little, but they couldn’t begin to study those papers.”

  “Well, they can learn the language from Manteo. I dare not. If I so much as nod to Thomas Graham, people think he is my paramour. Can you imagine how the gossips’ tongues would wag if I were to seek out Manteo for conversation?”

  “What I can’t imagine is that you, Cate Archer, would let the suspicions of others guide your behavior,” she replied.

  I thought for a moment. “You are right, Eleanor. Why should I let others hinder me with their disapproval? It will not keep me from befriending the Croatoan women, which is my purpose in learning their language.” I had not stopped thinking about their plight, which my fellow colonists preferred to ignore. “Mika reminds me of someone I used to know. And Takiwa’s son—perhaps he still needs medicine. I can speak some Algonkian now. I want to go to them.” Restless, I paced back and forth in the narrow room. “Does anyone know where they are living?”

  “Ananias thinks they are still at Dasemunkepeuc,” she said reluctantly. “But how will you get there? You’re not thinking of going alone?”

  I had a sudden thought. “Thomas Graham! He pledged to help me before.” I grabbed a wool cloak Eleanor and I shared.

  “Wait! You propose to go off in the company of a soldier for the purpose of relieving a band of Indians? Have you no care at all for your reputation?” She threw up her hands.

  “This is Virginia, not England. A different decorum applies here,” I argued.

  “Not in the matter of a woman’s virtue,” she said firmly. “Soldiers are known to be rogues.”

  My face was hot, my mouth dry. “As I have no plans to win a husband here, my virtue is no one’s concern but my own. And Thomas Graham is no rogue, but a better man than any of those false-made gentlemen who usurped your father’s authority.”

  Eleanor drew back as if I’d slapped her. “You dare to accuse my husband? And you speak ill of my father, too.” Tears came to her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, suddenly contrite. Eleanor and I had never quarreled. Now I stood to lose her friendship.

  “I think you do need a husband to rule you and curb your tongue. Graham may be just the man,” she said coldly and turned her back on me.

  I went to the armory, where the soldiers were oiling and polishing their muskets, and asked to speak with Graham. A few of the men leered at me, but I ignored them. Graham only laughed at their lewd jests.

  “Come, fellows, you know I love the fair Lady Anne, not this sun-darkened Ethiop,” he said.

  “Was that necessary?” I said when we were out of doors. “My hair may be black, but I am no Ethiop.”

  He smiled. He really was quite charming. “Queen Cleopatra was Ethiopian and a renowned beauty. How may I serve you, my Cate?”

  I said I wanted to hire him to row me to Dasemunkepeuc and protect me while I visited the Croatoan.

  “You need not pay me. I will relish the adventure,” he replied.

  “I have the means, and I will pay you,” I insisted. “For this is also a business investment. I want to learn how the women make the designs they paint on their skin. Then I will sell those designs to weavers and embroiderers. You know how London loves a new fashion in cloth. And the Croatoan would prosper by the trade.”

  Graham did not reply for a long while. No doubt my plan sounded like an insubstantial dream. But I would find a way to make it real.

  “I know why Ralegh loved you now,” he said, admiration in his voice. “You are a woman after his own heart.”

  “I was after his heart,” I admitted ruefully. “But I doubt he loved me. If he did, I would not be in this bind. If he loved this colony, he would have sent relief ships by now. He would be here to govern it himself.”

  I had never spoken about my feelings for Sir Walter to anyone besides Emme. But our shared exile led me to confide in Graham.

  “Now it no longer matters whether he loved me or I him. I am no longer after his heart, but something more … lasting, I suppose.”

  Graham nodded, looking into the distance. No doubt he was thinking of Lady Anne.

  I told Alice Chapman of my plan to go to Dasemunkepeuc and asked her to come because of her knowledge of the ailments of women and children. Moreover, her presence might discourage the gossips. I was not entirely careless of my reputation.

  “But my babe is not yet weaned,” she objected.

  “Eleanor will nurse him for you,” I replied. “And we will only be absent a few days.”

  “If it is to help women in need, you know I cannot refuse,” she said at last.

  We visited the apothecary, who kept his medicines in a cupboard in his house. Alice advised me to buy saltpeter, a few grains of which cured measles and many aches; syrup of poppy, which induced sleep in restless infants; and small bags of a foul-smelling herb which, infused in a drink, relieved fevers. As I made these purchases, her eyes lit up with anticipation.

  “Will the Indians welcome us, do you think?” she asked.

  I reassured her Tameoc’s women would recognize me and I would be able to converse with them.

  I did not ask Bailey’s permission to go to Dasemunkepeuc and thus acknowledge his authority over me. But Ananias knew of our plans. He preferred us to wait until Manteo had returned from his embassy to the Secotan, but he did not stand in the way of our going. Graham asked Christopher Cooper to procure a wherry for us, and Cooper, out of curiosity, decided to accompany us as well.

  The morning of our departure, a tearful Alice turned up at the door alone.

  “Is the babe sick?” I asked with sudden fear.

  “I cannot leave him. What if I never return?”
She began to sob. “My son will grow up without a mother.”

  Eleanor went to comfort Alice. “At least you have some sense. Cate’s plan is folly,” she said.

  “What is foolish about tending the sick and bringing them medicine?” I said. “Alice, nothing can go wrong. Why not bring your babe and let the Indians see we are just like them.”

  Eleanor gave a horrified gasp and Alice shook her head. “I want to go with you, Cate,” she whispered. “But the truth is, John has forbidden me. And he fills my ears with such tales of savagery I am almost afraid to leave my house.”

  As Alice could not be persuaded, I took the satchel of medicine and went to meet Graham and Cooper by the shore. The March morning was silent except for the the lapping of waves against the wherry. There were patches of ice near the shore.

  “Alice cannot join us. Let’s be off now,” I said.

  Graham and Cooper rowed while I held the tiller. The foggy clouds that rose from the water left a rime on their beards and on everything in the boat. I pulled my cloak tight around me for warmth. As we neared the shore, Cooper stood in the prow with his musket ready. I felt my stomach clench. Was this how our soldiers felt when they neared Dasemunkepeuc? Did they imagine warriors eyeing them from among the trees, ready to release their arrows? The shore was deserted. Graham led the way to the village. It consisted of a few dwellings shaped like loaves of bread and covered with reed mats. A thin wisp of smoke came from the roof of one.

  “Maybe they will come out if you put down your weapons,” I said.

  Graham unshouldered his musket and laid it on the ground, while Cooper lowered his, but did not release it.

  “Seeing a woman with us, they won’t attack,” Graham said.

  Into the silence I spoke the words I had carefully rehearsed. “I am Cate Archer. I come with medicine for the sick boy.”

  There was no reply from within the house, though it seemed occupied. Had they not understood me?

  Cooper murmured something about an ambush but Graham dismissed him. “What are they waiting for?” he said. “We’ve been sitting ducks since the moment we landed.”

  “Let’s search the houses for stores of food,” said Cooper.

  Before I had a chance to object, the mat was pushed aside and Takiwa stepped outside. A second face, thin with hunger, peered from the opening. It was Mika. Takiwa held up her empty arms. She let out a stream of words, most of which I could not understand, but I knew what she meant by them. Her son was dead.

  My own eyes filled with tears, a better ambassador than any words. I stepped toward her and she motioned me into the house. It was dark inside but smoky and warm. As my eyes adjusted, I saw how spacious it was. The walls were hung with baskets, dried herbs, furs, nets, and quivers of arrows. The fire had been covered when they heard us coming, but the old woman rekindled it. I was offered a bitter-tasting tea, which I drank so as not to offend. My halting efforts to speak Algonkian had some success. I learned Takiwa and Mika were Tameoc’s sisters. The old woman was their grandmother. She was weak but otherwise healthy. The other women were also kin. They had no food except acorn meal and a few strips of dried meat. Tameoc and the men had gone hunting. There had been no sign of Wanchese lately.

  Mika was shivering and appeared feverish. I gave Takiwa the medicine and, remembering what Alice had told me, explained how to administer it. I said nothing about my plan to bring them prosperity, for to speak of my own dreams seemed a mockery of their misery. Before I left, Takiwa gave me a mantle made from fox furs, which they had in abundance. They would have traded these for food if there had been any. But in all the neighboring villages was nothing but hunger and sickness.

  When we returned to Fort Ralegh, Bailey was angry with Cooper and accused us all of insubordination. Ananias, however, persuaded him that to punish us—especially me, a lady—for aiding a few Croatoan women would cause many of the colonists to turn against him.

  Alice was relieved to see me alive, and Eleanor said grudgingly, “I needed your help with Virginia.”

  There were two more deaths among the colonists before the snow melted and spring announced herself with birdsong and shoots of greenery. I was glad so many of us had survived our first winter in Virginia, and I hoped Mika was well again. I was eager to return to Dasemunkepeuc and build upon my friendship with the Croatoan women, the dream of which had helped carry me through the winter. With the coming of spring, hopes were rekindled that a relief ship would come, while Bailey and his supporters revived plans for moving to Chesapeake.

  Bailey made no attempt to stop the visits to Dasemunkepeuc. He told Graham he hoped we would be killed for our troubles and thus end his. For my part, I was glad to escape the company of the anxious and divided colonists for that of the Indian women. Mika had recovered her health and was always glad to see me. She patiently corrected my errors in speaking, then had me repeat what she said. By this method my knowledge of Algonkian grew, and soon all the women could understand me.

  Graham was always pleased to come along as my protector, though we encountered no dangers. Then I realized he had been watching Mika. As yet she wore a mantle against the cold, but in the summer months when all the women bared their breasts, would he stare all the more? Mika was of an open and generous nature. One day she gave me a small cup lined with mother-of-pearl. She gave Graham one also. He had learned a few words of Algonkian and he thanked her, which made her turn away shyly.

  “You have not forgotten Lady Anne, have you?” I admonished him.

  “No more than you can forget Sir Walter,” he countered.

  “But he and I were never to one another what you and Anne were—are to each other,” I said. “Your affection was apparent and ours never spoken.” I thought of Ralegh’s letter I had read aboard the Lion almost a year ago. It had been full of regret and sorrow and even hope, but not love.

  “I do not think of Sir Walter often,” I admitted with some truth. It seemed vain to dwell on the past or wish for an uncertain future. When I thought of the touches, the words and the poems we had exchanged, it was all about the anticipation of love, the secrecy of it. Never the fulfillment, which might have ruined the pleasure itself.

  “Now he and I belong to different worlds, as unalike as the sun and the moon,” I said.

  “But if he were to come to this world—,” Graham prompted.

  “We would all be glad, for we would no longer be in want. But where are the ships he promised?”

  Graham shook his head. “Perhaps Ralegh has suffered financial ruin or lost the queen’s favor. John White may have been shipwrecked. The plague may have struck and carried off half the people of London. Or the Spanish have invaded England. The queen might be dead and King Philip on the throne, for all we know.”

  “Are you trying to frighten me, Thomas Graham?”

  “No, my dear. But I do think I am unlikely to see an English ship or my Lady Anne again.” He looked so forlorn I thought he might weep.

  “Then we must make the best of our circumstances here and learn to live alongside the Indians,” I said.

  And so I continued my efforts to learn the ways of the Croatoan women. I followed them to the swamps where they gathered reeds and watched as they wove them into mats. They showed me which roots were edible and which ones would sicken me. I learned to identify huckleberries, cranberries, and mulberries, which I took back to the island and made into preserves. I picked wild peas and helped to harvest rice from a shallow lake; I ground nuts and acorns and even made bread out of them. All this knowledge I shared with the other colonists in the hopes that our second winter would not be as desperate as the first.

  Mika and I became close friends. She loved to dress my hair, tying it behind my head after the Indian fashion. One day she turned up my sleeve and, using a dark blue dye, embellished the skin of my arm in a lacy pattern. I felt like one of the queen’s ladies preparing for a masque. She offered to dress me in a deerskin like her own, but I did not want to bare so much of my flesh.
I wished that Emme and Anne could see me and hear me speak the Indians’ tongue as easily as they themselves spoke French.

  While Graham and I were at Dasemunkepeuc the hunters returned, arriving as quietly as the fog that rolls in from the sea. Graham saw them first and called to me. I followed the women as they came out to greet the hunters, who were dragging the carcass of a deer on a sledge. To my surprise Manteo was with them, wearing not his English clothes but a deerskin around his loins and a torn shirt. At the sight of me and Graham he looked displeased.

  And then I noticed Tameoc, his arm wrapped in a bloody cloth. It appeared to be the sleeve from Manteo’s shirt. How had he become injured? My gaze went to his belt, from which a bloody patch of skin and hair dangled. I thought of the dead men’s skulls atop the Tower gate in London. For the first time I felt a tremor of fear in the Indians’ presence. Who had Tameoc slain, and how was Manteo involved?

  But it was not only the piece of scalp that made me afraid. Also tucked into Tameoc’s belt was a bright new sword. I knew it had to be the sword missing from Chapman’s shop, the one James Hind had died for. Tameoc must be the one who had stolen it, and as soon as Roger Bailey found out, there would be trouble.

  Chapter 28

  I, Manteo, Meet the Moon Maiden

  One of the legends my mother used to tell me has become part of my dreams. Now I cannot separate it from the dream. Which one is true? They are both as true as life itself. This is what I know.

  One evening Algon the hunter was returning home from the forest when he came upon a group of maidens singing in a clearing. Among them was one who outshone the others in beauty as the moon outshines the stars. At his approach the fair maiden fled, leaving her companions behind. Algon’s heart, which had risen with hope, fell with disappointment. The other maids tried to cheer him but he only begged, “Bring back the fair one.” They replied, “We cannot make her come or go; she obeys her own will.”