Bloodroot

Chapter 1 July 1609-3

I seldom ever saw the gentlemen of our company since they occupied the cabin under the Captain’s cabin, and they seldom ventured out into the sun and salty ocean spray.

Richard spent much time with his books, reading Cicero and Pliny the Younger and making a vain attempt to write the texts into English from the Latin. He worked using the top of his chests as a table. I was concerned for his eyesight and advised him to do his work on deck, but he was afraid that he would be in the way of sailing the vessel, so I went to the Captain and asked if Richard could come on deck with his work. The Captain refused my request but said that he would try to procure a place for him in the gentlemen’s cabin where there would be more light.

In a short time, the Captain hailed for me to come to his place of watch next to the binnacle. I did and was told that the gentlemen had no objection so long as Richard pursued his work and did not sleep or eat or remain in their area after he had finished his noble and scholarly endeavors.

I quickly informed Richard of the Captain’s arrangements, but he did not seem overly pleased. I told him that it would not be wise to offend the Captain and the other gentlemen on board.

He looked at me strangely and said that he was quite content to do his studying among “these good people. But since you went to such a great deal of trouble for my sake, I will not offend you or the Captain.”

I preferred spending as much time on deck as I could, even in foul weather. The sight of those other eight ships sailing in company with us like a gaggle of great birds was always a happy one for me. The sea became a pure, sky blue and contained many strange and unexpected things. Once, a large sea turtle, with crusty barnacles and other sea growth on his back, surfaced near our ship. The sailors tried to capture him with a barbed lance, since turtle meat is considered a tasty delicacy among them, but failed. The turtle was too old and wise to be caught this way.

Late one afternoon we espied a group of whales near the bow of the ship. I could hear their blowing nearly a half a league off and see their water-spouts shooting up into the air, higher than any fountain that I had ever seen. The whales stayed with us well into the night, and their blowing and hissing began to worry the superstitious sailors.

I began to suspect the sailors had reason for their fears when one passenger after another died of the yellow fever and more from an unknown sickness. It was rumored that “The London Plague” was among us, but because I had never seen one of its victims, I could not be sure.

At the end of four or five weeks, we reached a place in the sea where masses of sea growth the color of amber floated together in great fields, sometimes as far as the eye could see. Some of the sailors feared that we would become entangled in this sea growth and remain locked in this place forever, but the Captain, being a knowledgeable man, sailed right through it without the slightest inhibition to our vessel and, indeed, the growth proved to be very thin on the surface and easily broken up.

I hauled some of this growth aboard with a fishing line and discovered that it contained many living creatures—crabs and shrimp, small fish and snails, and others which I had no knowledge of. Besides this, there were many fish floating on the surface, shaped like a piper’s bag, only with bodies as clear as a film of soap. The sailors called these Portuguese men-of-war and considered them very poisonous and deadly.

The mariners, seeing that I had an inclination for the sea, let me handle many of the deck lines and instructed me in most of the particulars in their uses. I was on the point of believing that a seafaring life might be a proper calling for me when six or eight days—by the master’s reckoning—from Cape Henry, the sky turned to a pale gray and the sea took on a tossed, oily look and the wind had a strange sigh in it.

By nightfall the wind had begun to moan like a lost soul, and the sea waves crashed against the ship with increasing fury. By daybreak—at least by the hourglass—the clouds were so thick and black that night scarcely became day.

The wind became an ever-present roar. The ship pitched and rolled almost beyond control, and every wave that crashed against her sides sent a hideous tremor through her, powerful enough to shake her timbers loose.

Somehow the ship held together, but the passengers had a hard time of it. Most had tied themselves with ropes to some part of the vessel’s structure, whether it was a nail sticking out of the deck or a huge crossbeam. Some held on with their hands and some clung to others who were themselves tied down. It was impossible to move about the ship without a fast hold onto something solid. If one ever lost his grip, even for a moment, or tried to jump free-handed to the next handhold, he would be instantly thrown tumbling until he collided with a fixed part of the ship. At one time, a passenger near the forward part of our hold lost his grip and rolled into a group of men and women who were hanging on to a center stanchion. The force knocked them loose, and all went tumbling about the deck like feathers dumped from a pillow.

Most everyone became sick, and there was not a corner or any part of the ship that water did not find its way into. Richard covered his book chest with his bedding and lashed himself there, vowing to me in a voice above the din of the storm and screams of the passengers that he would not release himself until the storm had passed or until he drowned. A shout rose from the hold that we were sinking, and screams erupted all about me, both from men and women. People tore at their clothes in desperation. One man’s fear of drowning was so great that he attempted to stab himself but lost his dagger in a severe roll of the ship and watched it tumble into the hold. Knowing that rumor can often be worse than the truth, I made my way over to the hatch and looked down into the hold. Water had filled the bottom of the ship with a black sludge which covered most of our stores. Several sailors were wading in this bilge water with candles in hand, searching with eyes and hands for leaks along the ship’s hull. I climbed up to the main deck and asked if I could be of assistance. The boatswain shouted that I could join with his men at the pumps and soon more men came up to take their turn at the pumps. Even the gentlemen did not hesitate to earn a few blisters on their hands when it came to saving the ship.

For days we did nothing but stand to the pumps, each man taking his turn until exhaustion forced him to retire. Still we could gain no headway against the water in the ship. The Captain, who had remained at his station on the poop deck day and night during the storm, ordered all souls aboard who could stand on their feet—men and women—to work at bailing the ship with buckets. This action, 1 know, saved the ship, for the water started to diminish in the holds, and by the sixth day the storm had abated, the sun returned, and the sea—although still swelling and rolling—had spent its fury.

We had lost sight of our companion ships on the second day of the storm, and all wondered what had become of them. Some said that we were blown into an unknown sea where we were doomed to sail forever, never seeing land again. But the Captain took a sighting of the sun and put us at a degree of latitude only a few leagues north of Chesapeake Bay.

We altered course, very cheerful and happy, and made for Cape Charles with all sails billowing out so that we looked like a great cloud moving over the waves. On the morning watch we sighted land, appearing like a flat, white line on the horizon. We ghosted well off this shore, heading to the south until we reached Cape Charles and entered the calm and beautiful waters of the Chesapeake.

There, at the entrance to the King James River, rode four of the ships from our fleet: Blessing, Falcon, Lion, and Unitie. They hailed us with many good cheers and even fired off some of their ordnance. The Captain brought our ship skillfully up to their rode and dropped anchor. Our ship had hardly taken hold of the ground when two long boats came skimming over the water to our side. Most of the ships’ captains and a rough-faced captain of the land fort had come to inspect our ship’s damage and confer with our captain as to what course of action would be taken.

It was decided to leave the pinnace, with her crew of mariners, at the entrance to the river to await the arrival of Swallow, Virginia and Sea Venture while we, with the remaining ships, would depart for Jamestown on the next flooding tide.

All of the passengers, including me, spent the remainder of the day drying out in the hot sun. We laid all of our bedding and clothes that were wet on every part of the ship exposed to the air. Through a miracle, Richard’s books were spared. Not a single drop of water soiled them. The sailors busied themselves with making what repairs they could to the ship. Since I had nothing but the clothes on my back to be concerned with, I helped them where I could, pulling on lines when told to, and generally lending the weight of my shoulders when it was needed.

As soon as the tide changed in our favor, we weighed anchor, hoisted our topsails, and glided in line with the other ships up the river to Jamestown. We arrived there late in the afternoon, and as we were the last in line, dropped anchor. All the other ships found places at the quay that provided enough deep water for their draft.