Cate of the Lost Colony - Lisa Klein [49]
“Lady Catherine, your intentions were the best, and I bear you no ill will.”
I nodded, grateful. “I call myself Cate now,” I said.
“Then, Lady Cate, do not be sorry for me. This is an adventure that puts me among the finest of men.” He gestured toward his companion. “Why, this fellow spent ten years at Colchester prison for murdering a farmer. I’m afraid to beat him at a game of dice!”
The man grinned but without mirth. “It was for stealin’ not killin’. But I didn’t do either.”
Then Graham grew serious. “My dear Cate, it is I who am sorry for your plight.”
“Do not speak of it, please,” I said in a low voice. “I do not wish anyone to know I was imprisoned like your dice-playing friend.”
Graham leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I will be discreet. But as we find ourselves in the same circumstance, we ought to be friends.”
“Being a woman, my circumstance is somewhat different and more perilous than yours,” I said, drawing back. “We are being observed, and I do not wish to be the subject of gossip.”
“Truly, reputation is as precious to a soldier as it is to a lady. Worth more than gold,” he said, bowing like a courtier. “I would be reputed the bravest man in the Americas; Anne will marry me even if I am penniless. Damn, even the queen will love me then.”
Despite myself I smiled. I decided Graham’s character was much improved by soldiering.
Just then a commotion broke out, and I saw the Irish seaman and his unwilling bunk mate sprawled on the ground. John White stood over them, his face pale with rage. Everyone had stopped what they were doing to watch the unfolding drama.
“I’ve had enough of your quarreling and insubordination!” White shouted. “I’m giving you a choice. You can take your flogging, or you can leave the company now and see how long you’ll last on this island.”
His threat was a dire one. Many of the mariners said the island was peopled by savages who stuck bones through their noses and ate the flesh of their enemies.
In reply, the Irishman spat on the captain’s shoes. White drew back his foot as if to kick him, but the Irishman was too quick, scrambling to his feet and fleeing into the brush. The other rogue followed him. Thus, without a word, they chose their fate.
The boatswain threw two bundles overboard and they were quickly plundered.
“See what I found in Darby’s sack!” cried a man, holding up two strands of beads with brass crosses dangling from them.
Murmurs went through the crowd, as everyone affirmed the Irishman was indeed a papist.
Roger Bailey, one of White’s assistants, laughed harshly. “We are well rid of that Catholic dog,” he said. But it was Bailey, with his sharp yellowish teeth, who resembled a dog,
Next to me, Graham shook his head. “It was unwise of Captain White to let them go,” he murmured. “He should have had them flogged and thrown into the bilge instead.”
I was surprised by his harshness, but set it down to a soldier’s love of discipline. Soon, however, I understood what he meant. The evidence of Darby’s religion and the presence of Spaniards in the islands led to rumors that the Irishman was a traitor.
“That fellow has been to Virginia before,” said Ambrose Vickers. “He knows where the fort is located. Why, for a little money, the villain would betray us to the Spaniards around here. We will never be safe on Roanoke Island.”
I found myself defending the seaman. “I do not think Darby was disloyal, even if he was a papist,” I said. “Perhaps he only brought the beads to have something to trade with the Indians.” Ambrose and the men looked at me in surprise, and I realized they were unused to having a woman—even a lady—speak in their company.
The next day the ships weighed anchor, leaving Darby and his bunk mate to their uncertain fates. The idea of conspiracy had been planted, making everyone sober and fearful.
To make matters worse, John White and the pilot argued. Their raised voices drifted down through the open hatch. Eleanor was concerned for her father, so together we crept up the ladder and