13

August 19, 1607

“THE 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.”

“How 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.

“I 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 who could gather them, but there was not enough to feed everyone. The garden outside the James Towne fortress was tended regularly, commoners and laborers hoeing, watering, and keeping away as many scavenging animals and burrowing insects as possible. But the crops that had come up were meager. Beans were tiny and few; peas were the same. Cabbages and squash were riddled with an unknown blight. The wheat crop was scrawny. Come autumn, life would be harder still, with little food in store.

If the gentlemen would learn to hunt and garden like commoners, Nat had written in his journal two nights prior, then there might be enough food. But they are worthless. They complain and eat, no better than leeches. There is even talk that our council president Edward Maria Wingfield has been pilfering food from the storehouse to feed himself and his friends. I believe it may be true, as he seems less thin than the rest of us. Lazy, selfish man! But how long can the storehouse feed him before there is nothing left? He will have a hard lesson once his own belly screams at him. Indeed, all these gentlemen have hard lessons to learn if they are to survive more than this summer!

It is best for me to watch out for myself, for if I depend on others, I shall surely starve.

Jehu and Nat worked another few hours on the well, then took a break. Nat put his helmet on his head and picked up his shirt and musket. He went out through the fort’s gate, along one of the grassy pathways, past the fenced gardens and down to the river’s edge. He sat on a favorite stone and slipped his shirt on. The fabric made him sweat more, but at least it kept most of the biting flies off his skin. Gazing out across the wide stretch of water, Nat thought about many things. As always, Richard came to mind first.

I wonder if he is alive. Perhaps he is truly safe. I’ll never know. There was nothing I could do. If I’d come to Richard’s aid, what might have happened to me? As I had to be silent when at John Smith’s court of inquiry, I had to be silent at Richard’s trading.

Natives, whom Smith called Powhatans after the name of the chief Powhatan of all the native villages in the near and far reaches of this land, had attacked off and on through the summer, but no attack was as severe as the one in June. This had encouraged the men to hasten the completion of the fort. The soldiers set cannons atop bulwarks at the corners of the fort. The Powhatans were, it seemed, a warring group of people with minds impossible for Nat to understand. They appeared friendly at times, then bloodthirsty at others.

Smith had at last gained his seat on the council because of his ability to deal with the unpredictable Powhatans. If it weren’t for him, Nat was certain that the whole settlement would be dead or enslaved by now. But Nat no longer trusted Smith on a personal level.

Nat had fared better than most men since May. He covered himself with river mud at times to keep mosquitoes and biting flies away, he slept lightly to listen for impending attacks, and he always hid away in his sack a portion of biscuit or dried meat from each meal so that when cold weather came, he would have something to keep going. As of now, he had many handfuls of salt beef and pork, some dried apples, and a number of rock-hard biscuits. Most of it was wormy, but Nat had pulled the worms out. It was not the first time he’d hoarded food. In London he could go days without finding a fresh supply, and keeping a bit aside was a wise boy’s actions. If the other members of James Towne were smart, they would be doing the same.

Some of the buildings in James Towne were already complete, including the church, the storehouse, and cottages for the council members and some gentlemen. The structures were tedious to build, made of woven willow and hazel branches and plastered with thick mud and covered with thatched roofs.

But many men still slept in the rotting tents. Nat shared a tent with Samuel Collier, a young tailor named William Love, and an older laborer named John Laydon. Neither Love nor Laydon was a big talker, and the animosity between Nat and Samuel remained strong. This was good; Nat didn’t have to endure late-night banter from any of them.

“There is a gold-seeking party leaving in the morning. Are you going?”

Nat looked around. Jehu was there, standing behind the stone on which Nat sat, slipping his own shirt on over his broad shoulders and scanning the river with squinting eyes.

“Gold? Now?” said Nat. “Those men are fools. Will gold feed them or protect them from attack? I think not. Gold is in my future, not my present.”

“Wise,” said Jehu. He sat on the rock beside Nat, picked up a stray; flat pebble, and flung it toward the water. It skipped four times and disappeared. “Can you do more than four?”

Nat took a flat stone and hurled it. It skipped three times before it went under.

“I’ve been thinking. There are many plants here in Virginia,” said Jehu. “Different from those in England, but some of which are edible, I’m certain. If only we had a way of finding out which we can eat and which are poisonous. We could then gather the good plants and dry them to add to our store for the coming winter.”

“We could ask the Powhatans,” Nat said sourly.

“We could,” said Jehu. “But the more we can discover ourselves, the better. We don’t want to seem helpless to the natives, although I think they already see us as such. I have heard your belly growl, Nathaniel. Don’t tell me you aren’t hungry and that you don’t want to ease that pain.”

“I hear my belly, but I don’t feel it. I’ve been hungry much of my life. London was a harsh mother. Hunger is so familiar I scarcely notice.”

“Ah, but you will. Give it time.”

Nat threw another stone into the water. It skipped twice and sank. “Are you proposing we choose a committee to taste plants? Those that kill the men we will not eat and those the men survive we will harvest?”

“A committee, no,” said Jehu. “But volunteers might take small tastes.”

“There will never be such volunteers,” Nat said.

“I will volunteer. A small taste of a dangerous plant will likely only make one sick. Will you join me? If we discover new foods, what a great thing that will be. We can be of service to all the men here.”

“No,” said Nat.

Jehu nodded slowly. “I understand,” he said. He patted Nat on the shoulder and went back to the fort.

“He will only get himself killed,” Nat said to himself. “If not an arrow or bad water or an insect bite, he will intentionally poison himself. Idiot.”

Nat went back to the fort when Reverend Hunt rang the bell for the daily worship in the church, and Jehu didn’t mention his plan again.