1609, Winter of the Dead: A Novel of the Founding of Jamestown by Elizabeth Massie Page A

here!”
    Richard stood shakily and walked over to John Smith. Was Smith going to introduce Richard to the leader as a gesture of friendship? Was Smith so proud of Richard that he wanted to point him out to the leader? Or, perhaps, had the weroance, who had begun to study Richard’s pale blond hair with his fingers, decided Richard was some kind of strange creature?
    Smith put his hand on Richard’s shoulder. Richard looked at the ground.
    What is going on? Nat wondered.
    Smith said, “You will stay here, Richard. You have been traded for goodwill and for baskets of food these savages will give us to take back to James Towne.”
    Nat’s mouth dropped open. He stared at Smith in utter disbelief. Fear had sucked more color from Richard’s face than seasickness ever had.
    â€œMen,” Smith said to his soldiers and sailors. “Come with me, and we will be given all we can carry on our shallop. Baskets of all the good things we feasted on this day. It will help keep our settlement alive until our own crops come in good and strong.”
    Then Richard grabbed at Smith’s sleeve. “Wait! What is this you are doing to me? Have you lost your mind, sir?”
    Smith laughed. “Some would say I lost it long ago. Now sit, Richard. These natives will not harm you if you are not obstinate. You are but a boy. Do you really think I brought you to Virginia as a laborer? You are much too small. Be silent and the natives will not find you a threat.” He strode off to join his men, but Richard ran, too, and stopped just in front of the captain. He grabbed Smith’s sleeve.
    â€œYou cannot leave me, sir! I cannot survive here in this place!”
    Smith clenched his jaw. “Get back before I knock you back!”
    â€œDon’t leave me!”
    â€œThis is the way of explorers, trading boys for food or goodwill,” said Smith. “It has always been so.”
    â€œPlease!” Richard’s voice cracked and spun into sobs. “I do not know what to do. How should I act, sir?”
    Nat’s stomach twisted.
    A soldier said, “Push the boy aside, Captain. These savages will have little to do with such demonstrations as that boy is having.” The soldier grabbed Richard by the neck and shoved him backward. Smith led the men away. Nat trailed, afraid to look back over his shoulder. Afraid of what he would see in the eyes of the natives and in the eyes of the boy who had made this long, difficult journey with him from London.
    â€œNat, don’t leave me!” he heard Richard cry.
    â€œI have no choice!” Nat said to himself.
    And he didn’t turn around. The sound of taunting, laughing village children made the hair on his arms stand up. But he marched on.

11
    May 24, 1607
    We are back at the fort at James Towne. I am again assigned to strip tree bark and to help set the planks in the ground to secure the walls.
    But my heart is sick. It is all I can do to keep my mind from the terror I saw in Richard’s eyes when we left him behind with those savages. What is happening to him now? What is his fate? And the last words between us were angry. It is too late to take them back, but they haunt me.
    Nicholas Skot and Samuel Collier have become skittish. They work at dragging wood from forest to fort but, like Richard, neither is a large boy. I told them what happened to Richard, and they wonder if they will be the next to be traded if there is a need. Back on the ship I would have enjoyed the fear I see in Samuel’s eyes, but now it is only a reminder of Richard’s fate. Nicholas has told me he will run to the woods before being taken like a sheep to slaughter at the hands of John Smith.
    Smith. I know the captain is brave and strong and does what he deems right, but I know now that I do not want to be a man like Smith.
    And so when my mind has a moment of rest from thoughts of Richard I wonder—whom should I imitate? Where is a man I can act