Captain Newport went off to buoy the way, the only way we could sail.
Governor Gates set up in the admiral's garden a
mnemosynon,
a fair memorial of our experience on the island of Bermuda. It was made from the timber of our ruined ship in the figure of a cross and was fastened to a mighty cedar. In the center of the cross the governor placed a silver twelvepence, which bore the picture of King James.
The Reverend Bucke spoke a short prayer, drums beat, horns blew, from the
Deliverance
came two loud cannon shots. But not everyone was glad to be sailing off to Jamestown. I dare say that if a vote had been taken, more than half of the settlers would have voted to remain among the palmetto trees and the blue waters.
By ten o'clock the next morning everyone was aboard. Tom Barlow and I were on the
Patience
with Admiral Somers and all of the gentlemen. The rest were aboard
Deliverance.
The wind was light now, and the big ship had to be towed with a longboat. Even then, the channel was so narrow and twisting that she struck on the starboard side, fortunately not hard enough to split her planking. With shallow water on one side and jagged rocks on the other, we followed in her wake under a single sail into the open sea.
The wind served us well that day, so easily that, unlike my departure from Plymouth, I never felt a seasick moment. It held fair, though sometimes scarce and often contrary, during which we twice lost sight of the
Deliverance.
Shortly after dawn on the seventeenth of May, Admiral Somers spied a change in the sea and said we were not far from land. Dead trees and rubbish floated past from time to time.
That night he took soundings with the dipsey lead and found that we were sailing in thirty-seven fathoms of water. On the twentieth, near midnight, a marvelously sweet smell, sweet beyond belief, engulfed us.
Next daybreak a sailor in the foretop of
Deliverance
descried land. We had no cannon on
Patience,
but Tom Barlow fired his musket, and we all cheered, even Pearepoint and his men, who no doubt felt that the sooner they reached Jamestown the sooner
they could return to Bermuda and their search for gold.
The following day we entered a broad expanse of water. Admiral Somers called it the Chesapeake and said, "It's a fairer bay than any I have ever seen."
Later we came upon a bluff some two miles distant, where a fort that sat at the entrance to the James River was located. Its captain discharged a warning shot at us, thinking we might be Spaniards. Governor Gates went off in a longboat to assure him we were friends and English. When he returned, he signaled to Admiral Somers and we moved up to where
Deliverance
lay anchored.
Sir Thomas was standing at the rail, dressed in light armor, hand on the hilt of his sword. He looked grim and didn't speak until aroused.
"What did you find?" Somers asked him. "Did our fleet reach Jamestown safely?"
"Safe all six, save the pinnace
Catch,
which was set adrift."
"What of Captain Ravens and the longboat?"
"Not seen, not seen, of course," Sir Thomas said. "Lost, as well we know, long ago on that day the debris washed in." He gave me a gentle look. "It is good to know the truth, is it not? And not to live your life and die a little each day."
I did not answer. In the cloudy sky high above us, gray birds were screaming. I let their wild, sad cries answer for me.
BOOK THREE
Jamestown, Virginia
SIXTEEN
Tides and shifting winds held us for a day. Then a gentle breeze carried us up the James to a point of land and Jamestown. Below the settlement, tall trees overhung the riverbank. Sailors tied the two ships to the trees, quietly, as if they were tying a pair of horses. Sir Thomas Gates shouted for everyone to line up in orderly fashion and not to move until he gave the order.
Deliverance
fired her cannon. Muskets roared. Bugles sounded. Everyone cheered. Sir Thomas shouted for quiet.
Signaling us to follow, he strode ashore and took a path that led upward to a
Governor Gates set up in the admiral's garden a
mnemosynon,
a fair memorial of our experience on the island of Bermuda. It was made from the timber of our ruined ship in the figure of a cross and was fastened to a mighty cedar. In the center of the cross the governor placed a silver twelvepence, which bore the picture of King James.
The Reverend Bucke spoke a short prayer, drums beat, horns blew, from the
Deliverance
came two loud cannon shots. But not everyone was glad to be sailing off to Jamestown. I dare say that if a vote had been taken, more than half of the settlers would have voted to remain among the palmetto trees and the blue waters.
By ten o'clock the next morning everyone was aboard. Tom Barlow and I were on the
Patience
with Admiral Somers and all of the gentlemen. The rest were aboard
Deliverance.
The wind was light now, and the big ship had to be towed with a longboat. Even then, the channel was so narrow and twisting that she struck on the starboard side, fortunately not hard enough to split her planking. With shallow water on one side and jagged rocks on the other, we followed in her wake under a single sail into the open sea.
The wind served us well that day, so easily that, unlike my departure from Plymouth, I never felt a seasick moment. It held fair, though sometimes scarce and often contrary, during which we twice lost sight of the
Deliverance.
Shortly after dawn on the seventeenth of May, Admiral Somers spied a change in the sea and said we were not far from land. Dead trees and rubbish floated past from time to time.
That night he took soundings with the dipsey lead and found that we were sailing in thirty-seven fathoms of water. On the twentieth, near midnight, a marvelously sweet smell, sweet beyond belief, engulfed us.
Next daybreak a sailor in the foretop of
Deliverance
descried land. We had no cannon on
Patience,
but Tom Barlow fired his musket, and we all cheered, even Pearepoint and his men, who no doubt felt that the sooner they reached Jamestown the sooner
they could return to Bermuda and their search for gold.
The following day we entered a broad expanse of water. Admiral Somers called it the Chesapeake and said, "It's a fairer bay than any I have ever seen."
Later we came upon a bluff some two miles distant, where a fort that sat at the entrance to the James River was located. Its captain discharged a warning shot at us, thinking we might be Spaniards. Governor Gates went off in a longboat to assure him we were friends and English. When he returned, he signaled to Admiral Somers and we moved up to where
Deliverance
lay anchored.
Sir Thomas was standing at the rail, dressed in light armor, hand on the hilt of his sword. He looked grim and didn't speak until aroused.
"What did you find?" Somers asked him. "Did our fleet reach Jamestown safely?"
"Safe all six, save the pinnace
Catch,
which was set adrift."
"What of Captain Ravens and the longboat?"
"Not seen, not seen, of course," Sir Thomas said. "Lost, as well we know, long ago on that day the debris washed in." He gave me a gentle look. "It is good to know the truth, is it not? And not to live your life and die a little each day."
I did not answer. In the cloudy sky high above us, gray birds were screaming. I let their wild, sad cries answer for me.
BOOK THREE
Jamestown, Virginia
SIXTEEN
Tides and shifting winds held us for a day. Then a gentle breeze carried us up the James to a point of land and Jamestown. Below the settlement, tall trees overhung the riverbank. Sailors tied the two ships to the trees, quietly, as if they were tying a pair of horses. Sir Thomas Gates shouted for everyone to line up in orderly fashion and not to move until he gave the order.
Deliverance
fired her cannon. Muskets roared. Bugles sounded. Everyone cheered. Sir Thomas shouted for quiet.
Signaling us to follow, he strode ashore and took a path that led upward to a
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