Cate of the Lost Colony - Lisa Klein [53]
But where was Fort Ralegh? I expected to see a high stone wall and a tower within. The soldiers were shoveling sandy dirt into wheelbarrows and dumping it on a high mound. To my dismay, I realized the fort was no more than an irregular earthen wall. Most of it had slid into the ditch around it, and the soldiers were shoring it up again. Inside the fort was a single building, the armory. I watched as three soldiers heaved a gun from its carriage onto a wooden platform built atop the earthworks. I was not reassured. Every city had its defenses; even peaceful London was surrounded by a wall. But here the houses were located outside the fort, and new ones were being built outside the palisade. If the Spanish attacked, or the Indians who were not Manteo’s friends, we would be at their mercy unless we were fortunate enough to be inside the fort.
I regarded the settlement, too, with dismay. The dozen cottages built by Grenville’s men had fallen into decay. Their doors sagged and the rush roofs were collapsing. Weeds grew waist high and melon plants with their thick, wide leaves twined like snakes through the windows. Ananias was already repairing the largest cottage to house the governor and his family. It had two rooms, one with a wooden bedstead, the other with a hearth and a rustic table. I wondered where I would sleep.
Eleanor, undeterred by the disorder, was already scrubbing the grimed hearth. She grunted and sweated with the effort.
I was not meant to be anyone’s servant in Virginia. But watching Eleanor working in her condition made me ashamed, so I took a broom and began to sweep. Beneath the dried leaves and twigs there was no floor. I stared at the packed dirt in dismay.
“We have mats somewhere,” Eleanor said, wiping her brow on her sleeve. “But not enough for both rooms.”
“I will find some rushes to strew on the ground,” I offered, thinking of the tall grasses I had seen near the shore.
I set out on a narrow path that led toward the shore beyond the landing place. It was hot and still in the woods, and my shift and bodice clung to my body. Even my legs were damp with sweat. The clangor of the settlement grew faint, until all I could hear was the sound of my own breathing and the insects buzzing around my face. I wondered why I did not see the exotic creatures and plants John White had painted in such detail, the red fruits hanging in clusters of leaves, the yellow and black butterflies. The countryside around Wiltshire was more beautiful than what I could see of this island. The queen’s garden had flowers of every hue and was not so full of insects. I brushed past brambly shrubs that snagged my skirt. If I walked long enough, perhaps I would come to the Eden I had imagined.
I had gone far from the settlement when it occurred to me that I should not have ventured out alone. I began to wonder about the savages. If they were friendly, as White claimed, why had they not greeted us when we landed? Could they be hiding and watching me even now? I turned in a circle, smiling and holding my palms upward in a gesture of innocence. For some reason it made me feel safer. Then I heard a whispering that rose and fell. I froze until I realized it was the waves lapping the shore. The sound recalled to me my task, and I made for a patch of rushes near the water. I had not thought to bring a knife to cut the rushes or a cord to bind them. The sharp grasses cut my hands, so I wrapped them in my petticoat and pulled at the rushes until I had more than I could carry. Then I took off my sand-filled shoes, hiked up my skirts, and waded into the water, crouching to bathe my raw and aching hands.
The inlet was so still, the water so clear, I could see fish large and small darting in the lee of the rocks, an entire colony beneath the water’s surface. One was greenish in color, with fins as elaborate as a lace ruff. I was about to reach into the water and grasp it, when I beheld out of the corner of my eye a sharpened stick