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

like? Where is a man I can become?

12
    June 9, 1607
    Three days ago, as John Smith was out again exploring, we at the James Towne fort were attacked by natives. Such a frightful howl we heard as we stood with our axes and awls, bringing down yet more trees to be split and hauled to the place of construction. We dropped our tools and took up our muskets. Many hadn’t time to load the powder and shot before a rain of arrows came down on us. Men dropped like stones, wounded in shoulder and leg and chest. But I was able to fire as the natives came into sight at the edge of the clearing, hitting one native in the throat. He dropped his bow and his knees buckled. His eyes glared at me as he fell dead to the ground. I only remember one other man with such hate and fear in his eyes, and that was a convicted traitor in London as he was taken away on a wagon to be drawn and quartered.
    Two hundred warriors there were, according to Edward Wingfield. More than all of us together. Yet the roar of our muskets scared them off and we were left to tend our injured men.
    I asked Edward Pising why we would be attacked. As many others, I had thought we had established goodwill. But Pising said he did not know. Perhaps this was another village whom we had not appeased. Perhaps we had done something offensive which the savages had witnessed while peering at us from the forest.
    â€œWho can know their minds? Surely not us,” he said. “And this shows we can in no way trust them as Smith is bound to think at times.”
    Now, with some bandaged and others healing in their tents, we work faster than before. We must get our fort constructed.

13
    August 19, 1607
    â€œT HE CROPS WE’VE raised are deplorable,” said Jehu as he and Nat jammed their shovels into the soil within the palisade walls of James Towne fort. The man’s black hair was stringy and his eyes pinched with worry. He had also lost a great deal of weight since May, as had all the other settlers. “What seed we brought from England was half moldy when we put it into the ground. We’ll be lucky if we see any fall vegetables or wheat at all.”
    â€œHow do you know so much?” Nat asked. “You are a shareholder who has come to Virginia to find gold. Gentlemen don’t know about crops and digging.”
    Jehu tossed a shovelful of soil out onto the nearby pile. He and Nat were digging a new well. The first one had not provided enough water for the settlement. This second one would hopefully give enough fresh water for the men and animals and crops alike. The water in the James River was brackish, laced with salt and grit. Some men, in moments of desperate thirst, had drunk of the river and found themselves seriously ill or dead.
    â€œI was not always a gentleman,” said Jehu. “My fortune came from good planning and a little bit of luck. My parents were farmers from Scotland, but I learned merchanting when I went to live with my uncle in London at fourteen. I have been successful and lucky. Yes, I want gold. But I want to survive to enjoy the riches, and that will take the efforts of us all.”
    Nat nodded, and slammed his shovel into the growing hole of the well.
    The Virginia summer sun above was barely tolerable. No longer were breezes fresh and the air agreeable as they had been in May. Days and nights alike were hot and oppressive. Insects sucked blood of the men, leaving many unwell. Some had died from the bites of these insects; other had perished from eating spoiled food left from the voyage and drinking the river water. A total of twenty-seven men were dead. Even Bartholomew Gosnold, the captain of the Godspeed, was so ill with an intestinal disorder many doubted he would recover.
    Food was growing scarce; the men had eaten adequately the first weeks, dining on the remaining victuals brought from England. Now deer and squirrels were killed by those who could hunt, and the river gave up fish, turtles, and crabs to those