Surviving Jamestown Read online

  Sam and Nate didn’t mind the delay. There was so much to see on a sailing ship! When the sailors weren’t busy, the boys pestered them with questions about how the Susan Constant worked. Most of the sailors ignored Sam and Nate, but a few of the older crew members enjoyed showing the boys how to maneuver the sails to catch the wind. Sometimes they let the boys climb on the ship’s rigging to get a better view of the coast of England and the choppy waters that skidded toward shore.

  When the weather turned foul, the passengers had to stay below, on the ‘tween deck. With more than fifty people and all their possessions crammed into the tight space, the ‘tween deck was very crowded. The hatches were closed to keep seawater from spilling in, and lanterns provided only dim light.

  At night the gentlemen passengers and some of the sailors slept in hammocks hung from wooden posts. The boys and the laborers slept on straw pallets or blankets spread across the damp floorboards. The ship rocked constantly with the motion of the sea, and many passengers became seasick. The combination of dampness, sweat, and vomit gave the ‘tween deck a terrible smell. Sam was used to strong farm odors like manure, but the passenger’s living area smelled much worse than the filthiest barn.

  For Sam, the worst part of life aboard ship was the noise. In addition to passengers talking and sick men moaning, the wooden ship groaned and creaked. When the wind shrieked through the rigging and waves crashed against the hull, Sam had to shout to make himself heard. Even in calm weather, Sam could still hear the constant slap, slap of water against the hull.

  Besides Sam and Nate, James was the only other boy aboard the Susan Constant. Already puny, James lost weight in those first weeks at sea. As soon as the sea grew rough, James’s pale face turned greenish and he complained that he felt dizzy. When the ship rocked on big waves, James got sick. The motion of the gray, wintry waters churned up his insides and squeezed them empty of all comfort. His master, Edward Wingfield, scolded him when he fouled the sleeping quarters with his vomit.

  Sometimes Sam and Nate were told to lead James on deck and hold him steady by the side of the railing. Sam dreaded that task. Whenever they went to fetch him, James pleaded with them to let him stay below. The boy’s face took on a look of pure terror when he beheld the open sea. Although Sam felt ashamed for James’s cowardice and thought it was disgusting to watch him throw up, Sam held the boy’s arms as gently as he could. James was plainly embarrassed to seem such a weakling, but he could not force his guts to make peace with the water.

  Seasickness wasn’t the only ailment to trouble the passengers. Some of the men caught bad colds. The Reverend Robert Hunt developed such a terrible cough that Captain Newport wanted to take him back to England. But the minister kept refusing, saying he’d be well soon enough. One day, Hunt motioned to Sam as the boy trotted by. He told Sam to find John Smith.

  Sam returned quickly with his master.

  “John,” rasped Hunt, “I ask your support. As a minister, I have a duty to fulfill for the Company. And I refuse—” A fit of coughing interrupted his words.

  Smith pointed at a pitcher. Sam quickly filled the minister’s cup with water and handed it to him.

  Hunt nodded at Sam as he took the cup. He sipped, trying to regain control of his voice. At last, he handed Sam the empty cup, cleared his throat, and continued. “I won’t hear of returning to England, John. More than a hundred Englishmen are aboard these ships setting out for a strange, wild shore. Who knows what dangers and hardships these men will face? As a minister, I am the shepherd of this flock. Prayer offers a mighty comfort in times of stress and danger—” Again the racking coughs cut off Hunt’s words.

  Without waiting to be told, Sam handed another cup of water to Hunt. The minister’s eyes glowed in his pale face like two embers embedded in ash. When he coughed, his thin cheeks flushed a bright red.

  Smith sat beside Hunt and waited for the coughing to stop. “You have my full support,” Smith said to the clergyman. “If you choose to make the crossing, I promise no man will force you to turn back. But if you choose to return to England, no man shall criticize your decision in my presence.”

  “I will not turn back,” Hunt declared.

  Smith smiled and gently laid a hand on the minister’s thin shoulder. “I’m convinced you take your orders from a higher authority, Reverend. I’ll speak to our ship’s captain. I give you my word that there’ll be no more talk of sending you back to England.”

  Sam was up early the next morning, glad to see that the sky was clear. He was on deck with Smith when Nate and his master, Stephen Calthrop, joined them. Sam and Nate grinned at each other.

  Calthrop greeted Smith. “I understand you spoke with Captain Newport yesterday,” said Calthrop. He lowered his voice. “About Reverend Hunt’s desire to remain on board.”

  Smith nodded. The two men edged closer together and positioned themselves downwind from the sailors so their conversation could not be heard, but Sam could still hear every word. “Yes, Reverend Hunt asked me to support him,” Smith said. “He believes he has a duty to remain on board. The colonists need his spiritual guidance.”

  Calthrop eyed Smith carefully. “You made Captain Newport angry, John. He has told several of the gentlemen on board that you spoke too forcefully. That you’re quick to command, but reluctant to listen to your betters. If I may borrow the captain’s words, you ‘lack the manners of a peasant, but you’re as arrogant as an earl!’“ Calthrop laughed. “I think it’s fair to say that you left the captain as angry as a cat in a sack!”

  Smith frowned. “After our meeting, the captain agreed to keep Reverend Hunt on board. The captain’s mood is of no importance to me. Furthermore,” Smith added stiffly, “I don’t care what he thinks of my social status or my manners.”

  Calthrop raised his eyebrows. “Be careful, John. There are powerful men on these ships. Men who believe their opinions are law.” Calthrop paused, his brow wrinkled. “If Reverend Hunt were to die during the crossing, it would cast a shadow across the Virginia Company’s first venture. Some of the gentlemen might blame you for insisting that we keep such a sick man aboard ship.”

  “That’s absurd, Stephen!” Smith sputtered. “I’m an explorer, not a doctor. And I’m not a fortuneteller, either. I sincerely hope Reverend Hunt recovers his health. But ailing or healthy, the man believes it’s his duty to look after the spiritual needs of our colony. I respect Hunt, so I stood up for him. I won’t beg forgiveness when I stand up for my friends.”

  Calthrop smiled. “Hold your temper, man. I’m just telling you what’s afoot. I’m not agreeing with your critics.” Calthrop put an arm on Smith’s shoulder, and the two men stared out over the waves. “You know my thoughts, John. We have a new world to conquer. We need men like you—men with skill and daring. I just don’t want you to anger the captain or the gentlemen.”

  Sam and Nate listened as their masters talked. Smith lacked Calthrop’s cultured manners, Sam noticed. It was as if Smith didn’t have the time to be polite. Unlike the highborn Calthrop, Smith came from the merchant class of English society. Since he had not inherited power or wealth, he had learned to grab for any chance of success.

  Nate had told Sam a lot about his master. Calthrop was only four years younger than Smith, but he was far younger in his experience of the world. His aristocratic family was related to Master Edward Wingfield, the most powerful gentleman aboard the Susan Constant. Calthrop was going to Virginia in search of adventure. As the third son in his family, he would never control his father’s lands, so he hoped to find his own special future in the new world.

  Sam and Nate leaned against the ship’s rail. When it seemed like their masters would continue talking all afternoon, Sam challenged Nate to arm wrestle. Long-armed Nate, as usual, was winning the contest until Sam called out, “Look, a dolphin! Over there!”

  Nate swung around, and Sam slammed down his arm.

  “Hey, that’s cheating!” Nate yelped.

  “No, it’s not,” Sam sai
d. “I was just using my brain along with my arm!”

  Nate snatched Sam’s cap and took off. Laughing, Sam chased after him. The two dodged between crates and ropes. Panting, they nearly collided with a sailor. Master Edward Wingfield had just climbed up to the deck when Nate slammed into him.

  “Upon my word!” exclaimed Wingfield. “Watch out where you’re going!”

  Ignoring Wingfield, Sam caught up to Nate and jumped on him, knocking them both onto the wooden planks. Frowning, Wingfield pulled them to their feet by their collars and called to Smith and Calthrop.

  “Look here!” Wingfield shouted. “These boys were running wildly on deck. They nearly knocked me down. A ship is no place for such ill-mannered behavior.” Wingfield pursed his lips and pointed a finger at his cousin. “Stephen, I do not understand why you decided to bring along a servant. You are young enough to attend to your own needs without help. But if you must have these boys around, I insist you keep them under control.”

  Smith opened his mouth to answer, but Calthrop jumped in. “Terribly sorry, Master Edward,” Calthrop said. “We will certainly have a talk with the lads about shipboard manners.” Calthrop gave the boys a stern look.

  Wingfield cleared his throat and stomped off.

  Calthrop turned to the boys and winked. “If you boys have to bump into a gentleman, please bump into somebody besides my kinsman, Master Edward. Bump into someone with a better sense of balance. Or at least a better sense of humor!” Calthrop grinned at his own joke.

  “If there’s another complaint about the boys, I’ll speak to Master Wingfield,” Smith snapped. “I will tell him that these boys belong on this ship. We are going to build a colony in Virginia, and these boys are strong enough to work hard and young enough learn new skills. Indeed, what will a refined gentleman like Master Wingfield be able to contribute? If he cannot even keep his balance when a boy brushes past him, he will surely be of less use in the wilderness than a linen tablecloth!”

  Calthrop laughed. “I do hope you don’t speak such thoughts to Master Edward, John. You’ll get yourself in serious trouble. Remember—he’s the only member of the Virginia Company on board.” Calthrop looked at the choppy waters. “We’ve been stalled here for almost five weeks. I think everyone is losing patience.”

  2

  The Crossing

  At the end of January, the winds finally changed direction, and the fleet set sail. The three ships headed south along the coast of Europe, and then they turned west to make a great arc across the Atlantic Ocean. By traveling this semicircular route, they would take advantage of the trade winds that blew across the sea to North America.

  On February 17, they reached the Canary Islands, sixty miles northwest of Africa. Captain Newport ordered the small fleet to drop anchor. He wanted to send sailors ashore to collect fresh water and gather firewood for cooking during their voyage. Four or five days in the islands would also give them a chance to hunt for game that could be salted for the trip.

  The Susan Constant carried a longboat, and this large rowboat had room for thirty men. All three of the ships also carried smaller boats so the sailors could row ashore from deeper water where the ships would anchor. When the sailors made ready to row to the beach with great wooden barrels to fill with fresh drinking water, Sam and Nate begged their masters to let them go ashore. After the gloom and chill of England’s winter, the Canary Islands looked so inviting! Soft, warm breezes soothed their skin, and sparkling sands invited them to run and stretch. The boys were not the only passengers eager to refresh themselves on land. All the Englishmen were grateful when Captain Newport ordered the sailors to ferry them to the beach.

  As soon as Sam and Nate climbed down into the longboat, they began to unlace their heavy leather shoes. They rolled down their stockings, stuffed them into the shoes, and were ready to leap into the surf as soon as the boat neared the beach. “Race you to the dunes!” Sam called and took off with a splash.

  Nate easily passed him. His long legs leaped over the water, while Sam had to churn through the foamy waves.

  “Have you spent so long aboard a ship that you’ve forgotten how to run, Sam Collier?” Nate teased over his shoulder.

  Panting, the boys ran up the beach. Nate won, but neither boy wanted to stop running. They had been cooped up in that cramped ship for weeks! The boys dropped their shoes on the sand and headed for the green woods beyond the dunes. They spotted a climbing tree with low, thick branches. But before they could scramble up its squat trunk, they heard John Smith’s voice behind them.

  “Sam! Nate! Come back here!”

  The boys turned and ran back to the bright strip of sand.

  “Don’t get out of earshot, lads,” Smith warned. “You’re not in England anymore. It’s not safe to go running off where you can’t be seen or heard. From now on, we’re in danger of attack, so you need to be careful.”

  Just then, Master Wingfield came striding up the beach with little James scurrying along behind him. Wingfield confronted Smith. “What’s this I hear about bringing the guns on shore? The sailors say you’ve ordered them back to the ships to get the guns.”

  “Yes,” Smith answered, “I told them to go get some of the guns. The last time I was aboard a ship in these islands, we were attacked by pirates. I think it was unwise for us to choose this southern route across the ocean. But it was Captain Newport’s decision. Now that we’ve reached the Canary Islands, I think it’s unsafe to leave our weapons aboard ship.”

  Wingfield frowned. “As for your opinions about the wisdom of our route, Smith, you have voiced them several times. I did not find them compelling before, and neither did Captain Newport, who, as you know, is the admiral in command of this entire fleet. My concern now is that you overstepped your authority and gave orders to the sailors. Were you relaying a command from Captain Newport?” Wingfield demanded, his finger pointing at Smith’s chest. “We can’t have every passenger giving orders to the sailors. There has to be a chain of command. If you have something to say—”

  “I told the sailors to get the guns, Master Wingfield,” Smith interrupted, his voice rising. “I decided that we were putting ourselves in danger—”

  “You decided, Mr. Smith?” Wingfield snapped. “Since when do you make these decisions?”

  “Since the Lord gave me a brain to reason with. Look here—”

  “No, you look here!” shouted Wingfield. Suddenly, he noticed the faces of the boys, all staring open-mouthed. Wingfield waved his arm. “James,” he said, “go with those boys. Make yourself useful. Start gathering firewood. It is perfectly safe here,” he added, glaring at Smith.

  Smith started to object, but James blurted out, “Please, Master Wingfield, may I remove my shoes? Like Sam and Nate. I do think the sand is warm enough to keep me from getting a chill …”

  “Yes, yes,” Wingfield said. “I don’t care if you take off your shoes. Just don’t pester me with so many questions.”

  James looked as if he’d been slapped. “Begging your pardon, Master Wingfield,” he said timidly. “I didn’t mean to pester.”

  “Enough, James,” Wingfield said. “You can go now.”

  When James stayed rooted to the spot, Wingfield roared, “Get out of my sight, James!”

  Quickly, Sam tugged at the boy’s sleeve. “Come on, James. I see some driftwood over there.”

  The three boys dashed across the sand, leaving Wingfield and Smith standing face to face in a war of angry looks.

  On the third evening in the Canary Islands, Smith, Calthrop, and the three boys returned to the ship to find Captain Newport and Wingfield waiting.

  “John Smith,” the captain called in a clear, sharp voice. “You have been accused of mutiny. You are under arrest!” Four sailors surrounded Smith and bound his wrists together with ropes.

  Sam ran to his master. The sailors brushed him aside. “You will remain below until further notice,” the captain said to Smith.

  The color drained out of John Smith�
�s face as he stared at Captain Newport. He clenched his jaw and shot a furious glance at Wingfield.

  “Wait!” cried Calthrop. “What is going on? Captain, Master Edward, why has John been accused of mutiny? Who accuses him?”

  The captain ignored Calthrop. He pointed to the ladder leading below deck, and two of the sailors took hold of the prisoner’s arms. Captain Newport turned on his heel and marched off.

  Sam watched helplessly as his master was led away.

  “Master Edward, I demand to know what’s going on here!” Calthrop shouted.

  “I’m afraid you know only too well,” Wingfield snarled. “And I warn you, Stephen. It is only your family connections that have spared you from arrest.”

  Calthrop glared at Wingfield.

  “You were fortunate this time, Stephen. But take heed: Mutiny is a high crime, akin to treason.” Wingfield pointed his finger at Calthrop. “If you persist in supporting that scoundrel John Smith, you may not be so fortunate in the future!”

  A breeze off the ocean whipped the leaves of the trees and sprayed sand around the legs of the worshipers. The colonists strained to hear Reverend Hunt’s words above the wind. Sam stood between Nate and James for the brief Sunday service before the fleet set sail from the Canary Islands.

  Hunt led the colonists in two hymns and spoke of their duty to bring God’s word to pagan shores. During his sermon, Hunt stopped several times to cough. Sam remembered sitting at Hunt’s side when the ships were stalled off the coast of England and watching the minister cough, his body shaking with the effort. This morning, Hunt’s coughing spells were brief, and he stood firm and straight.

  Sam bowed his head respectfully, but his mind wasn’t on the sermon. His eyes darted through the rows of gentlemen. John Smith was not among them, and Sam was keenly aware of his master’s absence. He wondered how many of the others were also thinking about Smith. Sam studied the faces of the assembly, trying to guess each man’s thoughts. He was convinced that Master Edward Wingfield was responsible for Smith’s arrest. But which of the other men believed that Smith had plotted mutiny?