Cate of the Lost Colony - Lisa Klein [58]
“The first one always takes a long time,” she said. “I’ll pray for your deliverance.”
My hand was soon bruised from Eleanor’s constant gripping. By late afternoon her face was ashen, her lips raw with biting. She was so tired she could not bear down when Alice told her to.
“I’m going to die, I know it!” she wept.
“You won’t die,” I said, though I was far from certain.
“But if I do, will you take care of my baby?”
“Of course we will. Now push,” said Alice sternly.
“Not Alice; you, Cate,” Eleanor insisted, then let out a sharp cry.
I could see Alice was becoming worried. Finally she reached inside Eleanor, who screamed in pain. Moments later she withdrew a pair of feet.
“Cate, press down on her belly,” Alice said, her voice urgent.
Dear God, don’t let me kill her, I prayed silently, and put my hands on Eleanor’s tight, sweaty belly.
“Push harder!” said Alice.
I did, and something yielded within Eleanor. At last the baby slipped into Alice’s hands, its skin as pale blue as the veins under my skin. Alice bent over it, and moments later the tiny creature let out a high, thin wail. Eleanor began to weep with relief.
John White was the proudest man on Roanoke Island. The first English child born in the New World was his very own granddaughter. Ananias hid his disappointment that it was not a son. But there was such rejoicing for the deliverance of the mother and daughter that it seemed all our hopes would be rewarded, our troubles and fears banished.
At her christening, Eleanor’s baby was named Virginia.
Within a month of our coming to the island, Fort Ralegh was secure and all the houses habitable. Wells had been dug and lined with barrels to catch rainwater. Horses that had run loose on the island since Ralph Lane’s sudden departure were captured and put in new stalls. The chickens were producing eggs. Hundreds of trees had been cut to build the palisade and the sunny clearings turned into fields.
Manteo showed the farmers how to plant the seeds in small hillocks placed a few paces apart, so the beans would grow upright around the stalks of maize. Between the hillocks they planted squash and saltbush for flavoring. But the farmers spent as much time arguing as hoeing, debating whether the sandy soil would yield healthy grain and whether the crops would ripen before the winter, since they had been planted so late.
Meanwhile it rained two or three times, and pale green seedlings appeared.
In John White’s house, I slowly grew used to the different routine. Eleanor recovered her strength quickly, and though she nursed Virginia for hours on end she still managed to do all the cooking. I swept the house clean and beat the dust out of the bedding. Sometimes I held the baby or rocked her cradle and thought about how to invest Sir Walter’s money: either in fragrant cedar for furniture or the uppowoc plant, which could be dried and shipped with less expense. Because the governor would accept no payment for my board, I became the laundress for his household instead. It was a task that would have been too menial for a queen’s maid, but I was no longer placed so high. The one job I refused to do was grubbing in the dirt with a hoe.
I also traded on the only skill that was mine alone. The village women were pleased to have their ruffs bleached and stiffened by the same hands that had fixed the queen’s ruffs. And so I worked on many a ruff in exchange for pies and jellies and small favors. But the garments made our necks perspire in the heat, and as time went on we seldom wore them. I had less neckwear to launder and starch, but the baby made up for it with an abundance of dirty linens.
I did not mind washing them, foul though they were. I was simply glad for little Virginia’s presence. She was the treasure of our entire village. She had struggled into life and was flourishing, despite hardships