Sackett's Land Page 8

  "What is a savage?" I asked, shrugging. "It is another way of life. We will be cautious, my friends, we will be bold and we will be honest. If that does not work, we will fight—when the time comes.

  "There are many of them and only three of us. I think it would be well to remember this. My friend is Potaka. He says the others are to be avoided."

  "What do they say of Potaka?" Rufisco asked.

  I shrugged. "Probably the same thing, but until we know, we will be careful. And the Eno has invited us to his village."

  "You are going?"

  "We came to trade. I gave him a gift, a trade knife. Sometimes a blade can open a door."

  When darkness came and our smoke would not be visible, we built a fire in a hollow and baked some fish Sakim had caught. "We will move," I said, "when we have eaten. We will find a new camp."

  The night was a time of stillness. Frogs croaked, and several times we heard great roarings in the distance. "Lions?" Rufisco asked.

  "Alligators," Sakim said. "I have heard them on the Nile. We must be careful, my friend. Do not step upon or over a log until you are sure it is a log, and watch the tail. They will try to break your legs or knock you into the water with their tails."

  "It is very dark,' Rufisco said. "Can we not rest before we move?"

  I was myself tired. "Sakim? You will take the first watch? One hour only, then awaken Rufisco. One hour, and then awaken me. I will watch for an hour and then we will go. It will be a little rest for each."

  It seemed no time until I was awakened, and when Rufisco lay asleep I sat and listened into the night. Behind me, stretching no man knew how far, a strange land. To right and left a lonely coast where likely lay only the wrecks of ships carried here by storms or currents in the sea.

  Soon we would move ... toward what? Would I die here and leave only my bones for legacy? Or would some strange destiny begin here, in this place, so the name of Sackett became one with this new, strange land?

  It was clouding over, and there was a hint of dampness on the wind. Rain? It would help us. It would conceal our movements, erase our tracks.

  I touched each upon each shoulder. "Sakim! Rufisco! It is time."

  Chapter 9

  The rain came with a rush of heavy drops, a scattering like thrown gravel. Then the massed downpour of the storm descended, pushing inward from the sea, an invader like us.

  Against the wind and rain we went upstream, up this nameless river, past timbered shores and swamp-like meadows. The wind held, and our sail moved us along, the driving rain offering some concealment.

  Huddling in our cloaks we watched the dim shores slip past, and then the wind slackened, our sail gave us scarcely any movement against the current, and we unshipped oars and pointed on an angle for the left bank.

  "How far would you say we've come?" I asked.

  Sakim shrugged. "The current is strong. I doubt more than ten, twelve of your English miles."

  Before us we saw a long rocky island, lying several lengths away from our gig. We steered closer, and finding an opening, steered in.

  Two of us scrambled ashore and hauled the boat up onto the sand. "Only what we need," I said. "Let's be ready to shove off if trouble comes."

  Under an overhang we built a small fire of driftwood and warmed our chilled hands.

  "We will cache a part of what we have," I suggested, "and then we will trade with Potaka's people. We will be fair."

  "Is it fair," Rufisco asked, "to trade beads worth a few pennies for a fox skin worth as many guineas?"

  "Of course. Value is a matter of scarcity and need. The beads we have cost little in England because we have many, but here those beads are rare. Furs are cheap to them for the same reasons. We want their furs, they want our beads. So we strike a bargain.

  "They cannot sell a fox skin here for what it is worth in England because they are not in England. We will trade carefully, gather many furs, and then we will go back to the sea and wait for a ship, for Gosnold, Newport, Weymouth or any who come."

  "Including Nick Bardle?"

  "Him we will try to avoid."

  None of us could know for sure what lay before us. But each of us hoped to become rich. Sakim was a man long away from his home. Rufisco wished to go back in a blaze of glory, with fine clothes, excellent weapons, and a name of importance.

  There was a restlessness in me, an urge to be doing, and I knew it was not only myself who thought or felt in such a way. It was an urge to see, to know, to discover. A part of my age, of my time, it was in the blood of us all, I suspected, even of Rufisco, despite his claims to the contrary.

  I added a chunk of driftwood to the fire. The ashes at the edge of the fire were dry, white, powdery. I sifted them through my fingers.

  Night settled about us like a falling shroud. Night, and the rain, a soft,, steady rain now. Fortunately there was driftwood aplenty and I kept the fire small but warm.

  Sakim and Rufisco had fallen asleep. After a while I got up, looking carefully around in the dim light. This place was a good one, the overhangs offered shelter from wind and rain. After midnight the rain let up and I walked out on the sand and looked up at the rock under which we were sheltered. The forest came right up to the jumble of rocks, and there were great, gray giants of trees lying dead upon the rocks, blown down in some terrible storm, no doubt.

  I lay down and slept, awakening as I wished before it was light. All was still. There was no rain, but the clouds hung low. Taking up my sword and my own dagger which I had retrieved from the bales of goods, I sought a way to climb the rocks. At first I could find none, then I found a crack, an opening scarce wide enough for my body. Worming my way to the top I managed by a precarious foothold to climb a steep slanted rock up into the forest-a dark tangle of fallen trees, tangled brush, moss, and low-growing branches. There was no evidence that any man had ever come this way.

  For a long time I sat there on a log, studying the layout. It was such a tangle that it invited no exploration. Indians in search of game could find it in easier places than this.

  After a while I returned to the fire. The others were still asleep, so I added fuel to the glowing embers and continued to explore. High at the opposite corner of the beach from where I had first found my way up, I saw a dark hole under some fallen boulders. Stooping, I went inside. It was not a natural cave, just a space left under some slabs of rock. Yet it went deeply back, and after a few feet inside I could straighten up. Light came from small openings between boulders.

  Clambering up on one side, I found a good shelf, slanting back about fifteen feet.

  Here was what I had sought. A storage place for our surplus goods!

  When I returned to the fire, Rufisco was up. Not only up, but he had caught three good-sized fish which he was broiling over the coals.

  Sakim joined us at the fire, extending his hands to the flames. I told them what I had discovered, and when we had eaten our fish and a bit of biscuit, we moved our cargo ashore, holding out enough for an eighty-pound pack for each. Then we cached the remainder on the rock shelf in the cave.

  When we had finished, Rufisco spoke to me.

  "We have come with you, Barnabas," he said, "because we like you, and because anything was better than to live and die on Bardle's ship. But what is it you plan?"

  "Before Bardle waylaid me, I was to have come here with a ship captained by Brian Tempany," I replied. "He was to sail a few days after the Jolly Jack. His ship is the Tiger. She was a slower sailer than the Jack, and should be along the coast within the next few weeks. She will be trading with the Indians, and exploring. Her route was the same.

  "What I hope to do is make trade with the Eno Indians, take our furs and be back on the coast to meet the Tiger, should it come near. It is a chancy thing, as you can see, but if the Tiger does not come there will be others."

  "And then."

  "For a time I want to stay. If all goes well, I shall trade my share of the furs for more goods and remain here. After a year
I will sail again to England."

  Rufisco's smile was ironic. "If you live."

  "Of course. Here or in England, all plans await the decision of the Master."

  The Lord had my trust, yet of others I was not so sure. The Indians were an uncertainty, and so was Nick Bardle. He was a hard, vengeful man. Would he leave matters as they stood?

  "This Potaka," Rufisco asked, "you trust him?"

  "He seemed friendly, yet we will proceed with caution," I replied.

  Rufisco hoisted our sail, once we had rowed clear of our hide-out, and catching a good wind we started upstream and made good time.

  I kept a sharp lookout along the banks to see what manner of trees there might be, for one in particular I sought.

  Amazing was the variety. There was much willow and alder. I saw beech, tulip, poplar, several kinds of pine, birch, hemlock, chestnut, and the white limbs of buckeye. Further along I spotted here and there a sycamore, an ash, an elm. It was in my mind to make longbows and arrows for silent hunting as well as to conserve our supply of gunpowder.

  Several times we saw smoke, and once we passed a considerable village with huts that seemed, at the distance, to be made of bark. There was the smoke of a half-dozen fires there, and numerous canoes drawn up on the banks. Dogs ran down and barked angrily, but we were some distance off and we saw no Indians until we had rounded the bend, when at the last moment I looked back and saw several, whether men or women I could not tell, emerge from their huts.

  "Did they see us?" Rufisco wondered.

  "It is possible," I said, "but they came late."

  Even as I spoke I was looking ahead. The shore of the river curved in and the river narrowed. It was a bad place, bringing us dangerously close to the banks.

  Sakim spoke suddenly. "Barnabas! Look!"

  He pointed. Several Indians appeared momentarily in the willows, running abreast of us. Then another, farther ahead, moving toward the narrow passage where we would be closest in.

  Glancing toward the passage, I saw no Indians, just some large dead tees projecting into the water and making the narrow gap even more dangerous. The wind was only fairly good. "Get out the oars," I told Rufisco, "we're going to need them."

  I took my fowling piece from the thwart and looked to the priming, then replaced it. The last thing we wanted was a fight.

  I watched the stream, the shore, and held the tiller steady. No Indians appeared.

  Nearer ... nearer. Sakim put his hand down to his musket.

  No Indians. The sandy shores were empty. There seemed no movement in the trees and brush beyond. I glanced upstream. If we could just get through the gap ...

  Suddenly, Rufisco grunted. Turning I saw three Indians emerge from the brush, running hard. Behind them a fourth ... a fifth.

  The first one came quickly to a halt, lifted his bow and let fly an arrow. The distance was right but he had been too eager, and the arrow fell astern.

  A second arrow hit my pack, just ahead of me. A third flew over. Rufisco lifted his musket and fired.

  The heavy boom of the musket was like thunder. An Indian cried out and fell. As Rufisco reloaded, I saw the Indian trying to rise, a great slash across his thigh. He fell, blood covering his leg, and the others stood still as if frozen, staring and frightened.

  Rufisco put down his musket and took up the oars, dipping them deep to help the sail. Soon we were out of the Indians' range. Rufisco's face was pale, his eyes large as he stared at me. "Why do they wish to kill us, Barnabas?" he asked.

  "We are strangers. We are not of their tribe, and they fear us. And we have goods ... what we have is a great treasure to them. It is the way of the world, Rufisco."

  "But we come for trade!"

  "Aye, and so did some of the ships taken at sea by privateers or pirates. We will trade with whomever we can, but we will take nothing by capture unless we are first attacked."

  "They will have no such feelings."

  "I do not know. Perhaps, perhaps not."

  The gig was moving smoothly upstream now. At a fork, we turned right, gliding between low banks with scattered clumps of trees and some marsh. We saw no Indians, but twice we saw deer, and several flocks of wild turkeys.

  Suddenly I remembered something. The fine gray ash at the edge of our campfire.

  Potash ...

  There was a need for potash in England, and a fine market for it. One need not think only of furs, and the potash could be obtained by burning driftwood.

  A prosaic cargo, certainly, but a needful one.

  Suddenly, Sakim cried out, and I looked up from my daydreaming.

  We had rounded a bend, and coming toward us, so close there could be no escape, a dozen canoes ... perhaps forty men ... and all were armed.

  "Stand fast!" I said sharply. "Hold your fire!"

  Chapter 10

  My first realization, after an immediate stab of fear, was that the Indians wore no paint. There were stories enough in England about Indians painting for war.

  "Put your weapons out of sight," I said, "below the gunwhales. I think they are peaceful."

  The canoes slowed their pace, gliding down to us, and then a hand lifted, palm outward, and I recognized Potaka.

  "It is my friend," I explained.

  Rufisco snorted. "No Indian is your friend," he said. "Keep your gun handy."

  I lifted my hand in a sign of peace, and Potaka glided close. If he saw the guns he made no sign of it, nor showed it by gesture or expression. "You come to village?"

  "We come," I said.

  "Good!"

  He shouted to the others and they turned their canoes with a deft, easy maneuver and ranged alongside us, before and aft.

  Sunlight sparkled on the river as the clouds scattered before a warm south wind. Beside us, the graceful birchbark canoes glided easily through the water, the copper arms of the Indians moving in unison.

  It was no small journey we had undertaken. Now they led the way, and we kept pace, certain only that we had small choice. Their attitude was friendly, but how could we know how genuine it was?

  At night we camped ashore, and their hunters brought in meat in plenty. Good venison it was, such as a man might not have in England without poaching on the estate of some great lord.

  The Indians were of short stature, and only a few of them were muscular except with the long, lean muscles that indicate the runner. At wrestling I had no doubt I could best any one of them, perhaps any two.

  They talked much among themselves, and laughed a lot.

  When we reached their village we found it was extensive, many huts of wattle and daub construction, surrounding an open field.

  All were busy, and they seemed to have a considerable store of grain. Potaka told me they had three harvests each year and traded with less industrious tribes nearby. There was much dressing of skins, parching of acorns, and gathering of herbs from the forest.

  Several times Potaka showed me men who had been injured in battle, occasionally with tribes of Indians, but usually with the "Espanish," whose northward movement they had attempted to stop.

  They were avid for trade, but we were cautious, telling them they must await the coming of our ship for extensive trade, that we had but little. We began cautiously enough, displaying only a few articles. I was surprised, for they were an industrious folk and wanted needles, knives and axes more than beads and fripperies.

  On the first day we traded but little, and when the feasting began we contributed from our small store. Potaka made a great speech, which he translated in part as an account of his warfare on the side of the English against the Spanish, a speech he had no doubt made before, but which his fellows cheered lustily.

  We talked much of the land about us, and Potaka traced routes on the ground, using his finger or a twig to trace in the dirt.

  One he indicated. "Warriors' Path," he said. He pointed at the western horizon, then drew a wavy line and with gestures indicated that he described a mountain ridge. At one point he point
ed out a low place in the mountains, a wide gap. "Here Warriors' Path," he said.

  "And beyond?"

  "Much good hunt, but much fight also. Many tribes come there, none stay. Is good place, but dangerous place!"

  "Someday," I said to Potaka, "I want to travel that road."

  He looked at me thoughtfully. "It is long trail, many dangers."

  "There is game beyond the mountains?"

  He described the deer, fox, bear, lion, buffalo.

  For two days more we traded, bringing out a few things each time, trading with care. Our stack of furs grew, and even Rufisco was feeling good. On the fourth day our English goods were gone, and we packed our furs into a canoe.

  "We go now, for more goods," I said. "We will come again to trade."

  "Killers there," Potaka pointed downstream. "You go by night."

  The whole village was down at the shore to wave good-bye, and when our canoe rounded a bend and they were lost to sight, Rufisco grunted, then said, "You were right. But who knows how it will be next time?"

  "We have made a profit," I said quietly. "We have rich furs, but it is a beginning only."

  "Aye," Rufisco agreed, "the furs are good. Such furs I have not seen except Russian. But you do not have them in a market, my friend. There is a long river before us, and at the end of the river a large ocean and maybe Nick Bardle!"

  "You think he is waiting for us?"

  "Waiting and trading, and such men make no friends for the white man. He'll be waiting, searching. He will go first to the shore. He will talk to the Indians, seek out those who have seen us or found some sign of our going, then he will study the rivers ... and how many can there be? Three? Four, perhaps? Not so many that he cannot watch.

  "If we do not come soon, he will know we are dead, if we do come he will make sure we are dead. The problem is not so difficult, eh?

  "You say, 'It is a big country, how can he find us?' But I say it is easy to find us. It is not a big country when there are white men in a boat. In all this country there can be but one boat with white men, perhaps but one boat with a sail. So he will find us."

  "You are a pessimist," I grumbled, yet some of my complacency was gone. There was truth in what he said.