The Newcomer Read online

  Isaac and Josef slowly turned their gaze at each other. “Well,” Josef said. “An unexpected solution.”

  “A brilliant solution!” Peter cried with a happy grin. His father turned and stared until Peter’s eyes dropped. Isaac stomped on ahead, but Peter held back with Anna. “Did you see that?” he whispered. “How could they argue when Henrik jams Scripture in their face? He’s a genius!”

  Anna had to admit that the newcomer was full of surprises. Everything set Henrik Newman apart. His looks, those piercing blue eyes, the shock of white on his curly dark hair; his personality, curious and open and responsive. He could read moods as easily as dry soil absorbs rain. And then, just as smoothly, use that information to persuade others to his point of view.

  Peter looked around him, at Maria comforting Christian, and leaned in closer to Anna. “Henrik Newman should be our leader.”

  “Jacob Bauer is our bishop.”

  Peter lifted his eyebrows. “Not if he’s dead.”

  Anna resisted that thought, though as the days passed and not a word or sign emerged, she was starting to wonder if it could be true. Most in the group shared Peter’s assessment, and grieved it. Jacob and Dorothea were much loved, and the little church felt their absence deeply. Jacob, especially. They were like a ship without a rudder.

  Later that night, after supper and devotions, the men gathered to discuss what to do next.

  “But it’s such an obvious answer,” Henrik said. “Let’s do the most important things first. Winter’s coming won’t hold off for long.”

  This very morning, frost had covered the hay in the meadow like a layer of snow, melting quickly as the sun rose in the sky.

  “There’s the problem, right there,” Josef said. “We can’t agree on what are the most important things. I think we should plow the meadow to get ready for spring planting.”

  “And gardens,” Barbara said, affirming her husband. “We must get a garden ready.”

  “Barbara is right,” Maria said. “We have no neighbors to borrow from and getting provisions takes more than a few days’ journey. If we don’t get a garden ready for spring planting, we don’t eat. If we don’t eat, we’ll starve.”

  Her husband frowned at her. “We won’t starve, not as long as we have livestock. That’s why I think we should build fences to guard the livestock. Using a tree branch as a gate for the animal pen won’t suffice for long.”

  Isaac shook his head. “Peter and I want to start felling trees to build cabins.”

  “Not me,” Peter said, though no one asked for his opinion. “I want to build snares to trap marauding beasts.”

  “Marauding beasts?” Barbara said, alarmed, as her hands reached out for her toddler sons. “What marauding beasts?”

  “The woods are full of panthers,” Peter said. “Haven’t you heard their screams in the night? They sound like a dying woman.”

  Barbara grasped her children against her as if a panther had just slunk into the cabin, but everyone else ignored Peter.

  “If we plow the meadow first,” Josef said, “then we get two benefits—a field ready for spring sowing, and gathered fieldstones that can be used for cabin fireplaces. Plowing is the most essential thing we should do, before the ground freezes.”

  People looked at Simon, a man not overly burdened by ambition. “I just want to stay warm this winter.”

  Maria’s voice carried over the buzz of conversation. “Henrik, what would the followers of Jakob Ammann do in this situation?”

  All eyes shifted back to the newcomer. “Ordain an additional minister,” he said. “To support Christian and divide the heavy burden of leadership. ‘Without counsel plans are disappointed.’ Proverbs 15:22.”

  Isaac, Josef, and Simon looked at each other in alarm. They did not want to risk getting ordained and accepting a lifelong responsibility for the group. Maria, though, was delighted by the suggestion. Her husband was beat hollow, worn out. She beamed at Henrik. “He’s right. He’s absolutely right. Isn’t that a fine plan, Christian?”

  Christian nodded. He always bent to the will of a stronger influence. Most often, that of his wife’s.

  Peter left the table to go fill up a cup with hot water from the kettle on the hearth. Anna poured it for him. He lifted the cup with both hands and breathed over the surface of the water to cool it. “Whenever Henrik quotes Scripture,” he said softly so that no one else but Anna could hear, “it has the effect of shutting everyone up. They all know he knows more Scripture than they do.”

  While it was true that the newcomer did quote many Scriptures, Anna noticed he often lopped off pieces of Bible verses, tailoring them to fit his views. That one about taking counsel, for example. Her grandfather often quoted that verse, but always included the next part: something about the wisdom of having a multitude of counselors.

  Isaac rose from the table and stretched. “I don’t think we should add another minister until we know what has happened to Jacob. We owe him that. And in the meantime, Peter and I are going to start work on our cabin. Tomorrow, first thing. The rest of you can do whatever you want to do.”

  Josef lifted his hands in exasperation. “But you can’t get started. Not yet. We don’t even know where the boundaries lie.”

  Arms crossed.

  Eyes rolled.

  Brows furrowed.

  Lips tightened.

  Fingers tapped.

  And round and round they went.

  Lady Luck, Boston Harbor

  November 15, 1737

  The seamen were full of praise for Bairn’s ability to bring the ship into harbor despite the lack of an anchor ball, but he was quick to point out that credit must be given to experienced seamen who carried out his orders.

  It was a much trickier maneuver than Bairn let on. He did not want to remind anyone of his younger brother’s mishap with the anchor ball. But his heart was pounding like a drum as he brought the ship into port, shouting at sailors to shift one sail, reduce another, open yet another, to slow the vessel and steer her around anchored ships, then to glide gently to a stop in Boston Harbor.

  He had a bit of luck with the whole thing—and of course, decent weather must nonetheless be given its due. A light cross-course breeze blew in from the sea, gently helping the ship along with minimal sail. As soon as the ship came to a stop, the breeze dissipated. The day grew utterly windless, and the Lady Luck stayed in position while four seamen took the longboat and rowed to the wharf to seek out a ship chandler shop and return with a new anchor ball before the tide changed. It wasn’t until the men returned and the anchor ball was securely fastened to the anchor home, then dropped, that Bairn took his first deep lungful of air since the ship entered the harbor.

  There was no time to appreciate a moment of success. The captain had sent word to bring in the cargo, rowed in by stevedores on longboats. Bairn went straight to the capstan, a type of winch, to insert long bars in the fitted holes. By pushing on the bars, stevedores would haul the rope wound around the capstan and could move the load up or down. As soon as he was assured that the cargo could load efficiently, the captain arrived and told him that he would supervise the hold.

  “Are you sure, sir?” It was unusual to have a captain spend his time supervising the unloading and loading of cargo.

  The captain gave a nod. “I want ye t’ turn yer attention toward tasks to complete while the ship’s in port.”

  “Aye, sir. I’ll get to them.”

  There was much to do to ensure the Lady Luck was prepared for the upcoming ocean voyage. She was an aged ship, worn and creaky, leaky as a sieve. He set sailors to work putting oakum into gaps between boards on the upper deck. By midnight, Bairn collapsed in his bunk, exhausted.

  Felix’s head appeared, upside down from the top bunk. “The land of Boston looks nothing like Philadelphia—there are fewer trees here.”

  Bairn yawned. “Aye. Now go to sleep.”

  “I can’t sleep. There’s something I’m puzzling over.”

&
nbsp; “What?”

  “All the tobacco that came on the ship in Virginia was taken off today.”

  Bairn shifted on his bunk. “The captain sold it t’ purchase new goods. ’Tis not uncommon to use one cargo to barter for another.”

  “I thought the cargo hold is where goods go that the captain wants to sell in England.”

  Bairn closed his eyes, drifting, drifting, drifting to sleep. “Aye.”

  “So then . . . ,” Felix said in a loud voice and Bairn startled awake. “Why was he loading so much in the lower deck?”

  There was just no quit in Felix when he had something on his mind. “No doot they’re goods that’ll bring in a higher value. He wants t’ keep them protected.”

  “When I tapped on some of the barrels, I heard something slosh inside.”

  “Water. We watered the ship.”

  “I don’t think so. Squivvers told me to stay away from those barrels because they cost the captain a heap of cash.”

  Bairn was wide awake now. Rum. Boston was one of the largest producers of rum in the world. But Bairn didn’t want Felix to know about rum, not at the tender age of eight. He could imagine what his father would have to say on the subject.

  “Bairn, what’s a rum runner?”

  Bairn groaned. “Where did you hear that term?”

  “Squivvers said that the captain is a rum runner.”

  Rum was a highly profitable market, especially when sugar or molasses was brought in from the Caribbean. So profitable that it raised the attention of parliament. The British enacted the Molasses Act of 1733, slapping a tax of six pence per gallon on rum runners. The colonists did not appreciate such taxes; most ignored the tax to smuggle Caribbean molasses in and Boston rum out.

  “Squivvers said that the captain isn’t going to sell a lot of the things stored in the cargo hold.”

  Bairn rolled over, rising on an elbow, scowling at his younger brother with all the annoyance he could muster. “Felix, what are you talkin’ aboot?”

  “I heard the captain say you would be needing them.”

  “What?”

  “He said you were going to re-outfit the whole lower deck.”

  Knowing full well that Felix had an answer to this question, Bairn asked anyway. “Did you happen t’ see what was in those barrels in the cargo hold?”

  “That’s what I can’t figure out. Link chains. Fetters and manacles, like the kind farmers use to hobble oxen.”

  He saw Felix open his mouth to ask another question and lifted a hand in the air to stop. “Sleep, laddie. Dinnae trouble yerself. I will see to it in the mornin’ and sort it all out.”

  Felix let out a sigh and flopped back on his bunk.

  As Bairn punched up his pillow, the awful dog trotted into the room, swaying and staggering. He went right over to Bairn and started hacking, coughing, then emptied the contents of his stomach.

  Bairn jumped out of bed. “Felix, what have you done? Did you poison your own dog?”

  “I didn’t do anything. Honest, I didn’t!”

  “Now there speaks a guilty conscience if ever there was one.” He touched the boy lightly on the shoulder. “Go get a bucket and mop and clean up your dog’s mess.”

  Bairn laid his head back down but did not rest. Darkness filled the quarters and pressed against his open eyes. He was much troubled in mind by Felix’s news.

  19

  Jacob’s Cabin

  November 16, 1737

  On a windy afternoon, Anna was searching for edible plants in the woods. These were the times she especially longed for her grandmother, who could identify any plant by sight and know if it could sustain life . . . or take it away. Some beneficial plants, like wild carrot, looked nearly identical to deadly poisonous hemlock. More than once Anna had berated herself for not paying closer attention to her grandmother’s lessons.

  Catrina’s shouts startled her. “Papa wants you to come,” she said, when she reached Anna. “Two men have come on horseback. He needs you to translate.”

  Anna followed her out of the woods and up to the cabin. The two men looked quite different from Englishmen, and soon she realized why. They spoke only French, and were insistent that this land, this land, belonged to the French and that the church was trespassing. They finally left, promising to return with the law to evict them.

  Henrik came into the cabin with an armload of firewood and saw Christian and Isaac and the other men talking in hushed voices by the fireplace. “What’s happened?”

  “Two men were here today. Frenchmen. They said that we are on French land, not land owned by the London Company.” Christian rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know where we will go.”

  “We’re not going anywhere.” Henrik dropped the firewood in the box next to the hearth. “Did you show them the warrants?”

  An uneasy silence followed, until Christian admitted he had not thought of it.

  Fingers drumming on the table, Henrik fixed his eyes on him. “So where are the land warrants?”

  Christian looked at Isaac, then at Josef, then Simon. Each man, in turn, shrugged his shoulders.

  “Surely Jacob Bauer spoke of getting land warrants.”

  “He did, he did,” Christian assured him. “We just don’t know where he put them. Jacob had surveyed the land and set out boundary markers using either boulders or notched trees. But those boundary markers are hidden in a wilderness of ten thousand acres. And where the warrants happened to be, Jacob did not tell me.”

  “Christian, they must be found. Without those warrants, we have no legal right to be on this land. These strangers who ride in—there will be more and more like them.” The newcomer slapped his hands on his knees and stood. “I think we should go through Jacob Bauer’s belongings and look for them.”

  No one moved. For a while there was no sound in the room but the hiss and sizzle of wood in the fireplace.

  The newcomer looked around the room. “From what I can surmise about your bishop, if the situation was reversed, he would have torn apart your trunks to find those warrants.”

  Still, no one moved. Anna was the first to speak. “He’s right. Jacob Bauer was a man of action. He would think us foolish to not move forward.” She went to the far corner, where Jacob’s trunk lay, and pulled things off that were resting on top of it. Henrik came to help her, and soon, a few others joined them.

  With the trunk lid open, she turned to Henrik. “What do land warrants look like?”

  “Papers.” Henrik dropped to his knees to reach into the trunk. “If he is a well-organized type, they would be kept separate and protected from the elements. If not, it might be a collection of scraps of papers.” He stopped riffling through the trunk to turn to Anna. “He could read, couldn’t he?”

  “Of course. He’s our bishop.”

  “Was.”

  A prickle started at the nape of her neck. She couldn’t believe that Jacob Bauer was dead. Not yet.

  Henrik turned his attention back to the trunk. Nothing that pertained to land warrants could be found. Maria went through Dorothea’s trunk as well. There was no indication that they had a claim to the land. Nothing at all.

  Christian sat on the bench, hands clasped together in his lap. “Wouldn’t the London Company take our word for it?”

  “No, Christian.” Henrik leaned his hands on the table. “Without them, there is no proof that Jacob Bauer actually claimed the land. Anyone could take it.”

  No one would dispute that. While waiting in the Court House back in Philadelphia, Isaac had heard a story of a German farmer who had built his log home and cleared acreage to farm on the wrong land—an easy mistake to make in the unsurveyed wilderness. When the legal owner arrived, he was pleased to see the improvements made on his land, then had British soldiers arrest the German farmer for squatting.

  “Something will have to be done,” Henrik said.

  Christian tapped his fingertips together in a meditative rhythm. “It seems you’ve more experience in dealing with leg
al matters than the rest of us. If you are willing, we would like you to go.”

  Henrik dipped his head in a gesture of compliance. “Most likely, I will need to make some kind of payment on the warrants. For the patent deeds.” He winced. “If I had any money to my name, I would offer it, of course. But alas . . .”

  Christian went to his trunk and opened it, taking out a purse full of money. “This is all we have left.” He handed the leather purse to Henrik, who took it reverently and put it in his coat pocket. “What if those Frenchmen return to claim the land before we can get this resolved?”

  “We have God on our side,” Anna said.

  Christian dropped his hands to look straight at her. “Those men do not know our God.”

  Henrik had a three-word answer. “Then, they will.”

  Shawl in hand, Anna scurried out of the cabin toward the horse pen, where Henrik was brushing down the mare, brush in hand. “So, it’s settled, then? You’re leaving for Philadelphia in the morning?”

  “Yes. I’ll see if I can get copies of the land warrants. If not a copy, then some kind of confirmation.”

  She came around to the mare’s right side and petted her velvet nose. “Henrik,” she said slowly, “you don’t speak English. How will you—”

  “Don’t worry, Anna.” His gaze met hers over the horse’s head. “If there’s any problem, I’ll find someone who can translate for me. I’ve had some experience with legal matters. Don’t you worry yourself over it. I’ll be back with those land warrants. For this land.” He gave her a broad wink.

  She smiled, relieved. She looked up at the cabin, at the curl of smoke coming out of the chimney. “I’ve been meaning to thank you,” she said. “I don’t know how we would be managing without you.”

  She watched his hands move the brush over the glossy chestnut hide of the mare.

  Their eyes met. “Anna, do you believe in dreams?”

  “How so?”

  “Do you think God speaks to us in our dreams?”

  “I don’t know that I do. But I don’t know that I don’t, either. I guess I just haven’t had that kind of experience with God.”