Becoming Americans (15 page)

      They docked at the Biggs plantation in time for supper. Hodges was there to greet them and to help secure the lines. He directed them to the manor house, but they saw Mister Biggs standing by an apple tree at the edge of his orchard. He hailed them over.

      "Have an apple before supper, men. Sarah will be furious if we have no appetite for her meal, so keep this to yourselves."

      Ingolbreitsen and Richard bit into the luscious fruit with relish. Such moments as these made Richard long for Pine Haven and the taste of fresh meat and vegetables. Though Harper's orchards were not yet producing, Brinson Barnes had always allowed them access to his trees, and no doubt, now that the orchard was Sawyer's, they would still have fruit.

      At these times Richard was torn between the thoughts of becoming a planter with access to natural riches like these, leaving himself always at the mercy of God's whims of rain and wind and cold, or whether to concentrate on his efforts at the craft of cooperage, where he could be assured an income, though there was no likelihood of wealth. Wealth in Virginia came through land, though Mister Biggs was making good use of all his timber. For now, Richard knew, it was cooperage that would earn him income to win Anne—aided by what he could amass in other ways. Anyway, Anne was the only child of Biggs, and this prosperous plantation would one day be hers. And that meant
his.

      "You work our young friend hard, Bartholomew," Biggs said, looking at Richard. "You must think highly of him to use him for special duties. He must be privy to a great deal of your business."

      The Captain studied Biggs, searching for the base of the man's interest and comments.

      "I've found him to be industrious and trustworthy, John," he said.

      "Then I will speak freely and honestly with him, Captain. If you would give me a moment, I would speak to the young man while you go to the house and stuff our pipes and pour us a brandy."

      "You are generous and thoughtful, as usual, John," the Captain said. He turned and walked to the house.

      Richard was concerned. He waited for the worst.

      "Richard, you come to my home highly recommended. I know your uncle, John Williams—a devout vestryman of the Church of England. I have heard good things of your master, Francis Harper. I have heard the story of how you helped my father-in-law, Mister Ware. I've heard that story many times from Anne, though she always omits the part about your drunkenness. Now, I think you are engaged in dangerous undertakings.

      "I will speak bluntly, young man. For you are a man, now. And my fair, precious Anne is but a girl. She will remain a child for some years, though Mistress Hodges has informed me of things…of things that make this conversation necessary. You have put thoughts into her head that should not be in the head of a child."

      Richard tried to protest.

      "Stop!" Biggs said. "I do not mean to imply that you are deliberately…turning her thoughts to unwholesome subjects, but I am saying you have a man's body and thoughts, and she is a child. A child whose thoughts and speech are too much centered on you. The gift you sent her was thoughtful, and she would wish to thank you were she here…"

      Richard's heart fell further.

      "…but it was a gift too personal and too expensive for a grown man to give to an impressionable young girl. My concern has become alarm since Mistress Hodges spoke to me of…. I don't want you seeing Anne again. She became twelve years old this week. When she is fifteen you may ask my permission to see her. If you're still alive." He looked toward the captain's back. "Until then, I must insist."

      "But I don't understand, Mister Biggs!" Richard was puzzled and desperate. "I would never harm your daughter. I love her! I only want what is good for her!"

      "You are much too young to speak of 'love'! For you to use that word regarding such a young child—my only child—is, indeed, to endanger your very life, young man!"

      Richard could see that blood had rushed to the man's face and that he was surpressing a great rage. He suppressed his own rage and tried another tact. He lowered his head and spoke softly.

      "I am truly sorry, Mister Biggs, that you treat my words in a manner that dishonors me. My Uncle John is a vestryman and has taught me that we are all to love each other and, in that sense I said…."

      "I am no fool, young man! I know what you meant and I know your evil intentions! You should humble yourself before God and before me. Your uncle is an elder of the Church of England and should be more respectful of his words and his God! You will not see the child until she is fifteen and you have shown thy humility!"

      John Biggs turned and walked in great strides towards the house. Richard stood frozen, holding on to his rage to ward off the sadness that might engulf him.

      He walked into the orchard, thinking of revenge for himself and for his uncle. He picked another apple, then picked two more and stuck them inside his doublet. A servant of about his age was picking apples and putting them into an Indian basket. The young man questioned Richard about his identity, they talked, and Richard awakened before dawn in the servant's hut beside an empty jug of hard cider.

      He forced his eyes open and, despite the pounding in his head, he ran outside to empty the contents of his bilious stomach. He'd never felt so ill. He remembered little of the night of drinking that had brought on this vomiting and diarrhea. Did he have the plague? By sunrise, when the Captain came searching for him, he was weak, but his empty stomach had calmed.

      Captain Ingolbreitsen was gruff and short with him.

      "That's no way to impress the man you're so determined to win over. I question my own judgment of you," he said.

      By the time the shallop reached the courthouse pier, Richard and the Captain were speaking again. They'd eaten Sarah Hodges' pone and bacon, and they'd drunk from the Captain's flask of rum and sucked on lemons that the Captain supplied himself with in his West Indian trade.

      "No, you have no recourse, Boy. You must do as Mister Biggs says or you'll lose all chance of winning the girl's hand. And he's right, by God! She is merely a girl! Leave it alone for a few years. They'll pass quickly enough. You need to be getting experience from a real woman, you do. I'll fix you up with a lively wench tomorrow evening. That's my duty. And it'll be my parting gift for you!"

      Richard saw that the Captain was serious. The prospect was exciting and worrisome. He wasn't exactly sure what he was expected to do with a woman. Still, the thought was more exciting than frightening, and it occupied his mind throughout the next afternoon, as he helped the crew clean up the work site for the celebration of the completed building. His thoughts brought forth a bulging in his breeches that brought forth laughter from the other workmen. "Got a hernia, Boy?" "Leave a boot in your breeches?" "Looks threatening, Boy, best take matters in hand."

      He forced himself to think of John Biggs and what he'd said. He tried to think of what he, himself might have said to calm the man. But Biggs didn't want words. He wanted something that Richard found very hard to give: humility.

      "You'll not see the child until you have shown thy humility!" he'd said.

      "Thy" humility? Yes, that's what he'd said! "Thy" humility.

      Was Mister Biggs turning Quaker? Was that why he spoke of Uncle John and the Church? Would he make Anne wear those ugly, drab clothes? Maybe that was Mister Biggs's real objection to him then, that Richard was not a Quaker?

      He turned his thoughts away from a subject that he couldn't change today, and lingered on the subject of this evening's adventure.

***

The wench had red hair curled in a great mass that fell to her shoulders. Richard was sitting in Captain Ingolbreitsen's high-backed chair when she entered the cabin. The Captain's present included the solitary use of his cabin for an hour, as well as the cost of the wench.

      "Well, you're a big one, you are. Captain told me you were a boy." She closed the door behind her and bolted it.

      "It's so hot tonight, isn't it?" she said. As she slowly walked towards him, she untied the laces of her bodice and pushed her chest forward so that the laces loosened and her breasts were free to move against the low-cut blouse. She knelt at his feet and pulled at one of his shoes.

      "My name is Sarah," she said, and pulled off his other shoe. He thought briefly of the Quaker woman until this Sarah, reaching up to undo his belt, brushed against the rigid rise in his breeches. She stood again as she bent to unbuckle his belt, and her breasts slipped from her bodice and hung free.

      Impulsively, Richard reached for and grabbed onto each pendulous breast.

      "No! Please! Not so rough," she advised him. "We've plenty of time."

      But Richard knew he didn't have plenty of time, and when she opened his belt and slipped her perfumed hand inside, it was over for him.

      "That's all right," she said. "I've known young men before. I'll have you ready again in a
very
few minutes. Then we'll fill the Captain's hour with makings for your memories."

      She boldly undressed herself in front of him and, by the time she'd undressed him, he stood erect and ready for her lessons.

      He was awakened by the Captain standing by the bed, laughing and yelling, "Get your naked arse out of my bed, Boy!"

      Richard looked around for the wench, Sarah, but she was gone. The captain laughed as Richard dressed and took large gulps from the tankard of rum punch that the Captain offered him.

      "Well, how was it, Boy?" the Captain asked.

      Richard had recovered from his embarrassment and exuded a confidence that he'd never had. He
was
a man.

      "She was the best I've ever had!" he told the Captain.

      "I'll bet she was!" The Captain roared. "I'll just bet she was! Now, get out of here, it's my turn!"

      Richard took another large drink of the punch and finished putting on his shoes, remembering.

      "She was right good, she was," he said. "And I thank you for the present, Captain. You're a good, Christian man to work for."

      The Captain was still laughing when Richard let a blond wench in as he shut the door behind himself.

      Torches blazed around the camp and candles burned in every window of the new courthouse. Kegs of beer and ale sat on the rear of carts where men crowded to refill their tankards. A group of men surrounded two Dutch sailors who were fighting, the excited spectators were shouting bets and urging on their man. Two lines of open-ended hogsheads were laid out that younger servants were running through in races that promised a rope of chew to the victor. A large pig was still turning over coals where it had been roasting for hours. A shriek of female laughter came from a worker's hut and Richard wondered if it were the wench Sarah. He felt a temporary pang of jealousy that he dismissed. He was a man now, and would have many such as she.

      Richard won more tobacco notes at a cockfight where the favorite, Richard the Lion Heart, was blinded and killed by a strutting, mottled cock that belonged to one of the Dutchmen. The Dutch were becoming his friends and partners, as Richard saw it. His fellow Englishmen were countrymen and kinsmen but, so far, it was the Dutch who were building his accounts and who treated him like a man.

      He switched from ale to wine and then to rum and remembered that he'd not yet spoken to Captain Ingolbreitsen about compensation. It was time to do that, Richard thought. He sat outside the Captain's hut until the sounds of raucous activity inside had stopped. Finally, the blonde wench came out, staggering and struggling with the laces in her bodice.

      He knocked on the door several times before the Captain called, "Come!"

      Captain Ingolbreitsen lay sprawled upon his bed, as naked as at birth but for the mats of dark orange hair that covered much of his body.

      "If you want more tonight, you'll have to get it for yourself," the Captain said. "But don't go near the blonde. She'd kill the likes of you!" The Captain roared and rolled over to reach for the tankard that sat by the bed.

      "No, Captain. It's about what's due me. There's been nothing said about what I'd get for…for the special duties and trips I've made."

      "You want something in writing, Boy? Are you daft? You'll get what's coming to you. Have you doubts? Am I not an honest man?"

      Richard quickly backtracked.

      "No, Sir. I've no doubts. I was just curious, that's all. I'm learning to cipher figures and I want to know what I have, what I will have."

      "You know that any commerce with an indentured servant is against the King's law, don't you? That law protects you from being misused, and protects your master from having his goods stolen and sold to freedmen. And anyway, any contract
we
wrote wouldn't read well before the Governor and his Council, now would it?"

      The Captain laughed and Richard picked at a pimple on his chin.

      "All I can say is, trust me, Boy, and work with me. Look at your neighbor, the sawyer. I did well by him, didn't I?"

      Richard's face was already glowing from the drink. Now, a grin covered his face.

      "Thank you, Captain. Thank you, Sir. I don't know what to say. You've been so good to me…."