A Company of Rogues, page 9
“I fear I’ve left it too late,” Nancy said. “You say mothers grow along with their children—but I am grown, and closer to thirty now than twenty. I love her—I do—but perhaps I am too old to learn?”
Kathryn’s arms tightened around Nancy, and she laid her head for a moment against her friend’s shoulder. “Nan, my dearest Nan—’tis not as if you have to do this all alone. Even when you are here in your own house, I am just across the beach—and Bess and Daisy too. We are all here to help one another.”
Nancy’s throat tightened, and she dared not speak for fear she might cry. All their lives, Kathryn had said they were “close as sisters.” Nancy had loved that closeness, but had schooled herself never to forget the distance between them. Kathryn was no grand lady, no lord’s daughter or even a merchant’s daughter, but she was mistress nonetheless, and Nancy her servant.
Someday, she thought. There would be a time to tell Kathryn the truth, but not today.
Eleven A New Venture is Begun
Cupids Cove and Harbour Grace, May 1618
(W)ho, having freight
Their ships with spoil enough, weigh anchor straight,
And each man to his house…
—Homer’s Odysseys, Book 14, 126–28
Every landing at Cupids Cove reminded Ned of the first time. The dark, tree-covered hills had been unbroken by any building then; apart from a single wharf for fishing vessels, the shoreline all around the cove had been untouched by human hands. When he had set foot on its shore that day eight years ago, Ned had felt as if he and the rest of Governor John Guy’s colonists were like Adams in a new Eden, walking on soil that no Englishman, no Christian—perhaps no man at all—had ever before set foot on.
He had made so many journeys since then, away from Cupids Cove to far stranger ports. But Ned still felt a kinship to the little colonial settlement behind its palisade wall that had been his first home in the New World.
He and Rafe had come down in the shallop today with Nicholas Guy to help their old friends John Crowder and Jem Holworthy move up the shore with their families. The voyage would have been easier in the Indeavour, which was a fair-sized barque with more room for passengers and goods. But Governor Mason sent the barque to Renews instead. Master Nicholas said that the governor was disappointed with Crowder and Holworthy for leaving Cupids Cove.
“He thinks we Bristol men do be trying to build a settlement that will rival Cupids Cove—a second English town in the New Found Land.”
“He is not mistaken though, is he?” Ned said. Crowder and Holworthy had already cleared their land in Harbour Grace last summer, near Thomas Willoughby’s place, and as soon as the winter snows melted the two men had returned to Harbour Grace to begin work on their houses.
“Aye, that is the intention,” Master Nicholas said. “But why be petty about it, and deny them use of a ship? There is land enough for all—look at this place.”
The short sail from Musketto to Cupids Cove showed that there was enough land in the New Found Land for hundreds, perhaps thousands more English colonists. All along the shore, fishing ships had begun to appear, for this was the month when the summer fleets made their way over from Europe. But they were there only for the few short months of the fishery. When winter came the land would be empty of Englishmen. How could men be petty enough to squabble over who ruled what, when there was room for any who wished to come?
When they tied up the shallop at the Cupids Cove wharf, there was no more time for such reflection; the two families who were leaving had boxes, barrels, and bundles ready to load. Jem Holworthy had himself, his wife and two children; Crowder and his wife had one child as well as Sallie Crowder’s sister Hannah, a maiden of seventeen. They would journey to Harbour Grace in two boats: Nicholas Guy’s shallop, and one that belonged to Thomas Willoughby, who had sent two men to help with the voyage.
Ned was both hungry and thirsty by the time the boats were loaded; not for the first time he wished Cupids were a town large and settled enough to offer an inn. But John Crowder said, “Come along to Whittington’s place—he’ll bid us a decent farewell before we set sail.”
Their little party walked the well-worn path from the wharf up through the settlement. There were some hard stares from folks who did not look happy to see the Crowders and Holworthys leaving. These people were recent arrivals, London settlers who had come out to Cupids Cove since John Mason had been made governor. There truly was a rift between the London men and the Bristol men, and the sense that the Bristol folk were deserting the colony ran deep.
But George Whittington gave them all a welcome at his table, and his wife set out eel pies and fresh-baked bread. “I will come before long to see your new plantations up in Harbour Grace,” Whittington said. “You know that while I plan to stay here in Cupids Cove for now, I am heartily in support of a Bristol colony.”
Waiting to see which way the wind blows before he jumps, Ned thought. When they had all come out from Bristol all those years ago, George Whittington had been nothing more than a servant in John Guy’s household. But George had a gift for ingratiating himself with the masters, for proving himself useful to those with power and loyal to anyone who could do him good. In the division between the Bristol and London men, Whittington balanced a foot on both sides of the chasm.
Nicholas Guy believed that Whittington had a third string to his bow: he was friendly with the pirate-turned-planter Gilbert Pike in Carbonear, who regularly traded with those on the wrong side of the King’s justice. Whether it was the London men in Cupids Cove, the Bristol men in Harbour Grace and Musketto Cove, or pirates at Carbonear, George Whittington was going to make sure he had allies in every harbour.
He’ll go far, Ned thought sourly. Whittington would be a friend to any man—but he had once been a cruel enemy to a powerless woman whose only crime was to reject his advances.
Still, he forced himself to be polite to his host as he took another cup of Whittington’s ale. The little colony of Englishmen in the New Found Land was too small to make lifelong enemies. You never knew when you might need something more substantial than ale and eel pie, even from a scoundrel.
But if Ned tried not to dwell on the past, George Whittington had no similar scruples. As their party left the house, Whittington walked with them down to the shore, falling back to walk alongside Ned as they reached the wharf. Governor Mason and his wife had come out to bid farewell; though the goodbyes were stiff and formal, still there was a show of civility—for again, it was too small a place for enmity.
“Seems a long time since we first came to this land, does it not, Ned?” Whittington said. “Remember how hard we worked those first months, sleeping under canvas until we got a shelter built before the cold weather came?”
“Aye, ’twas hard work.”
“I hear congratulations are due—your wife has borne you a daughter?”
“She has, thank you.”
“Well, a son next time perhaps. Is she still as much of a spitfire as ever, your Nan? Some men like a little peace and quiet around the hearth.”
Ned fought down his rage; knocking George Whittington out with a blow to the jaw would not sweeten their departure. He schooled himself to say, “Some men have the wit to know a good woman when they have one, and treat her as she deserves.” He turned his back to walk away before Whittington could say a word, and lifted Jem Holworthy’s small daughter over the edge of the wharf, passing her down to her father in the boat below.
The two shallops sailed up the coast to Harbour Grace; one of Holworthy’s children was seasick on the way and heaved up his guts over the side. The large harbour was already busy with ships’ crews repairing last summer’s stages and shelters in preparation for the fishing season, but the little party of colonists made its way to the north shore of the bay, to a long green slope of land not used by the seasonal fleet. Here was the house Thomas Willoughby and his servants had built the year before, and here Willoughby lived with a half-dozen servants who would fish for him this summer. Willoughby’s home, along with Crowder’s and Holworthy’s houses, would be the centre of the new colony the Bristol merchants intended to start.
To reach Nicholas Guy’s plantation in Musketto Cove, it was a short sail around the point of land. There was also a path through the woods linking Musketto and Harbour Grace, allowing men and women to travel between the two plantations on foot. Ned pointed out the trail entrance to Elsie Holworthy. “Even if no-one can spare the time to take you by boat, you can go by that trail in less than an hour and be at our plantation. Mistress Guy is there, and my Nancy, and Bess and Daisy. So if you or Sallie or Hannah want a bit of women’s company, you are not so isolated here as it seems.”
“This is good to know,” said Elsie Holworthy. Like Kathryn, Nancy, Bess and Daisy, Elsie was one of the first shipment of women who had come out from Bristol two years after the men. She had been only a servant girl back in England, but she had married Jem Holworthy, the son of a well-off Bristol merchant, a match that would have been unthinkable back home. “We will be right glad for the company of other women.”
Ned was proven right before the day was over: Bess and Daisy, with the two older boys, Will and Jonathan, came through the woods to Willoughby’s plantation to greet the newcomers with cakes and preserves. The boys were delighted to find new playmates, and took off with many hoots and hollers, while the women settled in by the hearth of the big house with Elsie and Sallie. Young Hannah Porter, Sallie’s sister, was outside chatting with Rafe; the two had spotted each other on the dock at Cupids Cove and had barely taken their eyes off each other since.
“I had thought my wife might come over also to welcome our neighbours,” Nicholas Guy said to Bess, as the men enjoyed bread and ale.
“We urged her to come. Nancy offered to look to the house and the younger children for her. But Mistress Kathryn said no, no, she would welcome you all to visit her soon, but she did not want to make the journey today.”
“What a pity,” said Thomas Willoughby. “Mistress Guy was here on an unexpected visit when I had nothing but two servants and a rude tilt to offer her shelter from a storm—I would like to show her how the place is coming along.”
Nicholas Guy stood up abruptly, his ale unfinished and his manner suddenly less affable. There was some old coil of trouble there, Ned knew—both Master and Mistress Guy grew uneasy whenever the name of Thomas Willoughby was spoken.
Ned had asked Nancy once what she thought the trouble was. “Thomas Willoughby is too light in his manner with other men’s wives,” was all Nancy would say. Ned was not sure if that was all she knew, or whether she was being discreet. The ways of women were a great mystery to him.
Nicholas Guy had gone back to his boat, preparing her for the journey home, but the others remained around the table eating and talking. The conversation turned to piracy. “We’ve had little enough trouble around here these past couple of summers,” Rafe told John Crowder. “Fishing ships and fishing stations have been raided, but they’ve left us planters alone. ’Tis best to be vigilant, though.”
“I believe the threat of piracy is much exaggerated,” said Master Willoughby.
“All the same, it might be wise to have some guns mounted here, as they have at Cupids Cove,” John Crowder said.
“That is the very sort of decision a governor could make—and get the funds from the company to do it, as well,” said Willoughby. “I have sent word to my father in England about our need for our own colony with our own governor. I hope before long we shall have news that that has been granted.” He raised his cup, and the men around him did the same. “To our own colony, and our future on these shores!”
In the shallop on the way back to Musketto Cove, Ned told Master Nicholas of Willoughby’s toast. Nicholas Guy chuckled. “Aye, there is not much doubt who young Willoughby thinks would be best suited as governor. And I do believe he is mad enough to think he might be given the honour, despite his youth and inexperience.”
“Surely, sir, if anyone ought to be governor, it should be you. You are kinsman to John and Philip Guy, and you were the first to settle along this part of the shore.”
“I welcome your support, Ned, but that is not how governors are made. They are set up by the merchants who finance the colony, and they choose men of wealth and high standing—not ordinary colonists.” He smiled as they rounded the point and Musketto Cove opened before them. “But if Thomas Willoughby thinks that he has the ear of every Bristol merchant, he may be in for a surprise.”
Twelve A Fatal Misstep is Made
Musketto Cove, July 1618
And, full of tears, we did due exsequies
To our dead friend.
—Homer’s Odysseys, Book 12, 16–17
Nancy was cleaning up after the evening meal. With the long evening light, Bess and Daisy had gone down to the flakes along with the men to cover the fish, for the sky promised rain. At the height of the fishing season, all hands were needed. The men fished all morning, then joined the women in the afternoon to split, gut, and salt the catch, turning the fish on the flakes to dry in the sun and protecting it from the rain. Other chores, save those that were absolutely necessary to keep everyone housed and fed, were neglected.
Now Kathryn came down from the upper chamber of the house, where she had put Alice and Jemmy to sleep together in the big bed. Jonathan was outside with Bess’s boys, playing on the beach. Nancy’s baby Lizzie, in the cradle by the hearth, whimpered for her evening feeding.
“Go see to her—I can finish this,” Kathryn said.
“How on earth do you manage when you have more than one child? I never knew or guessed how nursing an infant takes so much strength. Not to mention I still feel sore in a dozen places. In truth, I sometimes think I’d as lief go back to cooking for the pirates as trying to care for a slew of youngsters while still nursing an infant.”
Kathryn laughed. “It cannot be so bad, surely!”
“Well, I do not fear for my life or my virtue, so ’tis better here than aboard ship. But ’tis much harder work than I had thought.”
“I never thought to see you daunted by any task.”
Nancy looked down at her daughter’s half-closed eyes, her little rosebud mouth. “I see now why babes are so pretty to look upon—’tis all that keeps us from abandoning them in the woods, to be taken by the fairies.” She settled the baby at the breast and felt the steady pull of Lizzie’s suckling as she nursed. “I am only surprised that ’tis so much harder than I had guessed. I will be more solicitous of any nursing mother, now that I have done it myself.”
“You will have the chance to put that into practice soon, when Bess has hers. And now that we have more women just a short distance away, belike we will be called upon to help each other in different ways.”
“’Tis good to have neighbours,” Nancy agreed. “Sallie Crowder seems pleasant enough, and Elsie Holworthy always was a sensible woman.”
Kathryn laughed. “That is your highest praise for anyone, to call them sensible.”
“As well it should be.”
“And young Hannah has made excuses to visit three times already, even at the busiest time of year!” Kathryn added. When the women from Harbour Grace had come to Musketto Cove, Elsie Holworthy and Sallie Crowder had chatted with Kathryn, Nancy, Bess and Daisy, exploring the herb garden and the house, while Hannah had hung about Rafe like a bee around a flower.
“We must visit them, the next time Bess and Daisy want to walk over to Harbour Grace on a Sunday,” Nancy said. She had been daunted by the rugged woods trail two months ago, when the other women had first moved to Harbour Grace—a walk that would never have troubled her before having Lizzie. Slowly, her strength was returning and she felt ready to brave the trek through the forest.
“Nay, if ’tis on a Sunday, Nicholas will take us in the boat,” Kathryn said. “He has said that Reverend Jarrod will come up from Cupids Cove some Sunday in August to hold a service at Harbour Grace, so we will go over for that.”
“And we can have Lizzie baptized then.”
The light in the room was growing dim; it was almost sunset. Lizzie was restless after her feeding, and Nancy took her up and walked her about the room. Lizzie was beginning to hold her head up, blink her bright eyes, and take notice of things around her. “I think I will walk down to the beach with her,” Nancy said, “and come back with Ned and the others when the work is done.”
“Wait for me,” Kathryn said, shaking out the cloth she had been using to clean the pots and hanging it on a peg near the hearth.
The evening breeze was picking up; the gathering dark clouds overhead promised that the rain would begin soon, and a quick glance down at the beach showed that the work of covering the fish was done. Everyone was busy putting away fishing gear and tying up the boats. Isaac and Rafe worked at the end of the wharf, securing the lines that kept the shallop tied up.
Surveying this busy scene, Nancy and Kathryn paused at the top of the path that led down to the beach. The rocky sweep of barachois stretched before them, beyond the busy hive of activity around the flakes, and on to the other side of the harbour where Nancy and Ned’s little house, half-built, waited until autumn to be completed. The thought of moving filled Nancy with two parts anticipation and one part fear.
Kathryn, too, was thinking of their upcoming move, for she was also gazing across the beach and had just said, “Does Ned think you will—” when a sharp cry went up from the wharf.
Everyone on the beach was running to the water’s edge. Rafe stood at the edge of the dock shouting, “Isaac! ISAAC!!” over and over.
“What happened?” Nancy asked Daisy, as she and Kathryn arrived, breathless, on the beach.
“I never saw it myself—but they were out on the edge of the wharf—I think Isaac slipped and fell into the water. Rafe threw out a rope—”
