Becoming Americans (27 page)

      A saint, he was! If Sarah Hodges had married one of her own, instead of pestering her father into converting….

      The relationship between Anne and her father had become less tender and intimate than it used to be. Father Biggs had another family now, two boys and two daughters, all nearly the same, matching ages as Richard's and hers. Anne and her family didn't fit into the family of the Quakeress, Sarah Biggs.

      Often, Anne was embarrassed for her father when Sarah interrupted men's conversations, or offered her radical opinions on important subjects. She'd been heard to speak against the new and valuable institution of permanent slave labor, and she'd bring up quotes from King James's old pamphlet condemning tobacco as a pernicious evil! Anne would amuse herself at such times by imagining her step-mother going mad and running through local settlements, as some Quaker women were said to do. In imitation of Isaiah, they said!

      The sound of a gunshot echoed up Deep Creek, and Anne knew that her husband and son were back home. She threw the remaining vegetables into the rolling broth and ran out to the water barrel with a cloth to wipe the day's smoke from her face, and to wash off the rank odor of onions from her hands. She crushed first-breath-of-spring blossoms in her hands and patted her face and arms. She strolled to the wharf as the ketch drifted up. The children came running too, and a cry came from Baby Richard, lying in the crib by the door.

      "The lady of the manor awaits her lord in her leisure hours," Richard said to George Dawes, as the men secured the lines fore and aft that young John had thrown to them.

      "Tra-la-la," Anne sang, as though her time were spent in luxury and boredom.

      Joseph ran to hug his mother's waist, telling her and John, already, about James Town. Richard walked to Anne and held her, kissed her lightly and then hard, before pulling away. He looked at her with a seriousness that confirmed Shaw's prattle. Anne spoke first.

      "Ty faba lith in the Thames Thown dail," she quoted Shaw.

      "The wormy little bastard!" Richard yelled.

      "Your father will not stay in jail, Anne. My Uncle John was there. He wants to forgive me, and he's willing to speak to the Council for Father Biggs. There was nothing we could do. The Governor and the Council are in an unforgiving mood because of other things I'll tell you of. But Father Biggs will be well! I left more than enough with the guards to ensure his well-being and health. They're fair men, the guards, if they're well-paid."

      Anne refused to yield to fear. She could see Richard's aching concern for her in his eyes, and she'd not let him.

      "I know," she said. "When the wormy little man, as you called him, spat the bad news over me, I was afraid. But, not now. Father has powerful friends. As do you," she added

      "Joseph, Son," Anne said, "go change your shoes and help John clear the garden space."

      "No," Richard said. "Today the boys may go hunting for the rest of the daylight hours. One of the new men will do your chores for tonight."

      "Edy is with her Grandmother Biggs?" Richard asked, a twinkle in his eye.

      "She is," Anne said. Her eyes lidded over, and a smile crept across her face. "I think I'll have the new girls finish in the house and go clear the garden," she mused.

      Richard brought in the heavy chest on his shoulder. Anne followed, watching when his neck muscles became thick ropes. He rearranged the contents until Joseph and the girls left, leaving the door ajar. Richard leaned to pick up his namesake from the crib as Anne walked up and reached around her husband's waist.

      "Your father is strong," Richard said. "He'll survive whole and well, full of new tales of enlightenment to share at his Friends Meetings. We'll get him out." Richard spoke gently.

      "I know," Anne said, as she ran her hands across the hard stomach. She held him tightly and moved her hands to tell him that this caress was an invitation to be returned.

      Richard turned to face her. She was radiant with the same inner strength that sparkled when he'd first seen her, turning that spit in her grandmother's house. Richard placed the sleeping boy back in the crib, pushed the door firmly over the heaped sand and clasped it shut, then went to sit on the rope bed that they'd once broken in their frenzy. Anne stood before him, running her hands through the long, tangled curls of the hair that fell past his shoulders. How he longed to shave it and afford an elegant, curled wig. How she loved it.

      Richard's hand moved from Anne's waist, up the laced bodice, to the open neck of her undershirt. He stroked her neck and shoulders with one hand, as he unlaced the bodice with his other. Her slim waist excited him. He was once afraid that her body would become square, like her Grandmother Ware's. When the bodice laces were unstrung and Richard's hand moved under and up the shirt to touch her breasts, Anne shuddered as she remembered doing years ago, when he first touched her, when they lay inches away from each other, buried in a corn crib. Above all, Anne loved giving Richard children. Her time was right today. She'd give him another.

Bacon's Rebellion was like the hurricane of '67. It came fast, stayed for what seemed a long time, then was gone, leaving things were all torn up.

      On a hot and dusty day in late May of 1676, Edward Harper noisily appeared on the north road astride a lathered horse. Anne, glowing in her pregnancy, charmed Edward from his horse into their cool cabin, where she fed her guest cake and honeyed ale as servants tended to the mare and ran to fetch their master.

      The news Edward brought was disturbing to Anne. The young Nathaniel Bacon had attracted followers who were urging him to further rebellion. Edward boasted that he, himself, was among those frontiersmen demanding war on the Indians, and that the number of Bacon's supporters was growing and now came from every county of the colony. Edward was in Lower Norfolk, he said, to talk with local leaders, primarily with their near neighbor to the north, Captain William Carver.

      Captain Carver held more than a thousand acres just down-river from Richard's Deep Creek plantation, and had been a justice of Lower Norfolk County, the local member of the House of Burgesses, and High Sheriff of the county. Richard wouldn't presume to call the gentleman a "friend," but Captain Carver knew him by name. He was a respected gentleman; although, four years earlier, his position as a justice had been terminated after a scandalous and mysterious incident at a dinner party where Father Biggs had been in attendance. While dining with his friends, Captain Carver suddenly turned upon Thomas Gilbert, who was sitting next to him at the table, and stabbed him to death with a knife. At the trial he pleaded temporary insanity, saying that he remembered nothing of it, nor of any other of his actions that day, nor several days before or after. The jury declared him "not guilty," but Governor Berkeley reprimanded Carver and removed him from the bench. Carver, now, was an ardent convert to Bacon's cause.

      Anne stirred the stew and tended to the men's tankards as Edward brought Richard up to date with the growing strife.

      Earlier in the month, Governor Berkeley had ridden with three hundred distinguished and armed gentlemen to Henrico County to apprehend Mister Bacon. But Bacon and his followers had decamped further south and, at the Occaneechee island in the Roanoke River, had killed several Indians, many of them friendly to the English settlers. Bacon was declared a Rebel and Governor Berkeley, shaken by the loud reaction to that move, dissolved the Assembly, calling for a new election. Edward wanted to enlist Richard in the cause and to encourage his support for the election of Burgesses aligned with Bacon.

      Anne remained calm, but her resolve hardened as she saw Richard's face grow flush with the rum and saw his eyes widen and sparkle at the prospect of adventure.

      Richard echoed and encouraged Edward's ravings against London and James Town. King and Governor held tight reins on frontier expansion and were constantly raising taxes to pursue follies such as Fort Point Comfort, and for the luxurious support of Commissioners now in London to maintain Virginia's status as a royal colony and prevent her threatened transfer to cronies of King Charles, becoming a Proprietorship, like Carolina. No more headway had been made with Maryland to limit tobacco production. Tobacco prices kept falling as export fees rose. Competition from Carolina was a growing problem. Epidemics and floods and, this year, drought, had added to all this and made thousands of the colonists truly fearful for their lives and fortunes.

      Anne listened to the old colleagues loud voices and complaints, seeing in both the men—and surmising from their excitement that her conclusion would apply to many of the now-rebels—that just as important as their fear for the future of their land, was their greed to have more, and a willingness to take it from whomever now held what they wanted, whether it be the Indians or the supporters of their noble Governor.

      That night Edward slept in the loft with the boys, as Anne lay beside Richard, who alternately tossed and turned and snored—three times waking Edy. She knew that in his fitful dreams he was doing battle—fighting for his family—as he rode and drank and wenched his way from the Chesapeake to the mountains. Her resolve hardened that he
would not
join with the rebels.

      "Pray,
do
pass a few days with us, Edward," Anne pleaded the next morning. She liked Edward, she always had, and in the past she'd felt he was a moderating influence on Richard, but this plea was not from her heart, and she relented with Edward's first gentle rebuff.

      "Lovely Anne, there's nothing I'd like more than to spend a fortnight with such a gracious hostess. With you both, dear friends. But time is pressing now, for all free men of Virginia to heed the call of destiny, and to overthrow the tyrant Berkeley. My task, now, is to spread the word and help make sure our new Assembly will be one that truly represents us all, and has the far-reaching vision for England that this land demands."

      Anne looked demurely down. She dast not respond to that. She'd either laugh in his face or call him traitor!

      The couple waved good-bye to Edward as he rode south towards the Great Bridge, dust and sand flying from beneath his horse's hoofs to settle as another layer on the broad leaves of young and wilting tobacco.

      Richard held his arm around her waist and squeezed lightly. She looked up to meet his eyes and read the message she knew they held: "I, too, will ride away and join the Rebels."

      "Boys," Anne said to her sons, "you go about our work, then bring me birds to roast tonight."

      John and Richard gladly ran to fetch their hoes for chopping weeds. In this weather there was only little work to do, and they could soon be free to head towards the cool swamp, where birds and game of all types were plentiful. Wild strawberries were ready now, and maybe they could find some early briarberries.

      "Richard, we must talk."

      He felt a sense of dread. She had something awful to tell him that she'd been withholding until their friend was gone.

      "Are you not well?" he asked her, and his thick brows came together.

      Anne took him by the hand and led him back into the house. Richard held her hand and stood by the low fire as she sat on her stool.

      "I am well, and the child I carry is well.
She
is well."

      "Then what…" he began.

      "Husband, never since our marriage have I spoken against your wishes. I hold as contrary to God's will those women—like my now-mother, Sarah—who contradict their husbands and voice opinions and demands of their own. But, maybe I have learned from her."

      Richard looked down, frowning now.

      "I listened closely last night as you and Edward spoke. Even a woman— especially a woman with children she dreams and plans for everyday while she works—even a woman knows of the hardness and unfairness of the times. Even a woman knows that things could be made better. But armed rebellion against the King's representative in Virginia is as unforgivable as the rebellion against King Charles that killed your father and brought so many low and exiled to Virginia. I can
make
you do nothing, but know this: if you join with these traitorous men in rising against the Governor, you lose my respect and, though you'll never lose my love, you may be certain that the child I now carry will be our last."

      They were both silent. Anne looked up to see the uncomprehending and stunned look on her husband's face. His mind reeled with her effrontery and rose to a rage that crashed upon itself.

      His face slowly relaxed into a dull, defeated look. He released her hand and stood a moment before he turned and strode towards the door, stopping to return for a cask of rum that he hoisted on his shoulder.

      When he returned three days later, he was sullen and silent. He seldom spoke to her and spent more time away, riding or sailing about the county to join at inns and ordinaries with other men whose crops were turning brown and had the time to gather for discussion of the troubles. Fights erupted among friends as people sided with the parties.

      Anne grew dependent on Sarah Biggs for the latest information. Sarah was in frequent communication with James Town and her husband. Anne dared not broach the subject with her own husband on the rare occasions he was pleasant. His sullen mood lifted somewhat after election of an Assembly where Bacon's supporters were chosen, overwhelmingly, to the House of Burgesses. Nathaniel Bacon, himself, was elected from Henrico County, even though he was a member of the Governor's Council! It was obvious to all that a great war—a crusade— would soon begin against the Indians, and, it seemed, against the Governor.