Becoming Americans (53 page)

      "And you are he after whom our late brother, Edward, was named," Richard said.

      "May he rest in peace, yes. Sit here." Edward Williams indicated his table.

      "It's late in the morning," Edward said, " Goodwin's busy hour. But he's held the chairs for us. Without my ships and credit it would still be the Good Wind Grog, Ale, and Slop Shop." He laughed and slapped his fat thigh.

      The American Williamses laughed along, Joseph a little more enthusiastically.

      "I only now arrived. Ordered a pot of Black Dust. Had no Hyson, no Gunpowder. Black Dust will do, I hope?"

      "Oh yes," Joseph said. Richard murmured ignorant agreement while the boys looked through the haze of tobacco smoke, around the roomful of men.

      It was a rougher, coarser group than in Williamsburgh. Some were drinking ale, others rum, some tea; most were drinking coffee. The boys recognized three of them as acquaintances of their father and uncle.

      "I am most pleased to have this opportunity to meet you," the old man said to the younger Williams men. He took a silver snuffbox from a pocket.

      "Your mother was a Biggs, I understand."

      "Yes, Cousin. Her father was John Biggs, born in Southampton," Joseph answered.

      "And a friend of my own father, I'm told," Edward Williams said, ignoring Joseph. "Uncle John wrote me of it some years ago. From Kent, I think Uncle said. Turned Quaker, did he?"

      He inserted a pinch of the brown powder into a nostril and sniffed.

      "He did, Sir," Joseph said. "But our mother was raised a staunch Christian."

      "But I'd heard…."

      The old man sneezed, and Richard interrupted.

      "Our mother sat with the Friends to save her children. She is a true believer, Sir. She has paid mightily for her trespasses. If, indeed, she ever made trespasses that God would note." Richard's voice wavered at the edge of anger.

      "I wager we've all made transgression of note." The old man made a diplomatic effort to retreat from offending.

      "That's a bet I'll not accept, Cousin!" Joseph laughed, making an effort to lighten conversation.

      "We are most pleased to meet you, Sir. Are you enjoying your visit to the colonies, Uncle?" James asked.

      Stephen wasn't surprised to hear his brother interrupt the men's conversation at a time of tension. Family and friends called James, "the peacemaker."

      "I am, Young Sir. Each one, so different. Your Virginia is most beautiful and restful. No cities. That's good. City living jars the nerves. And the poor get restless in cities. Foment trouble."

      Norfolk is a city, Stephen thought to say, but knew he'd be ignored.

      "Williamsburgh is a pretty, prosperous village, I think. Some fine buildings in Williamsburgh," Edward said.

      "Father has taken us to Williamsburgh," Stephen said, wanting to say something.

      "I see." The old man acknowledged Stephen's existence.

      "As my father did with me and our brother, John," Joseph explained. "When James Town was seat of government. He thought it important that his sons see the King's presence. Our grandfather died while fighting for the first King Charles."

      "Your grandfather was my own uncle, remember," Edward Williams said. "I've heard the tales."

      Stephen stared at the old man. "Did you know of our Uncle Edward?"

      "My namesake? Yes. An adventurous privateer, was he?"

      Richard spoke in defense. "He died in Queen Anne's War. Fighting for the Queen, he was."

      James elaborated.

      "His boat was escorting a shipment of naval stores from Carolina."

      "Hmmn. I've heard that story, too" Edward said. "And you lost your brother John. A clever man. Too clever, maybe. I've come here from business up the Piankatank, near where he lived. They speak highly of your John Williams, still, in Middlesex. And of Uncle John. Bad luck. The Williamses have spread themselves thin in America, it seems. Middlesex, Norfolk, Carolina."

      Richard's busy eyebrows rose. "We're not thin in America, Cousin. The Williamses here are tight."

      Edward continued with his thought.

      "And now,
I
have a foot in Virginia because another planter in Middlesex spread himself too thin. I was force to take his plantation and sell it. What, pray, do I need with a Virginia plantation?"

      "A man must pay his debts, Cousin," Joseph said.

      "Did you sell his wife and daughters?" Richard asked.

      "I say!"

      Edward was surprised at the impertinence of his nephew.

      Other patrons in the coffeehouse looked in their direction.

      Joseph laughed. "I warrant we've a rougher sense of humor in Virginia, Sir, than you find in Bristol."

      The old cavalier relaxed and joined with the laughter. "No, I didn't sell them, Cousin. I keep the best for my own stables," he said.

      The serving girl came with their pot of tea. James and Stephen focused on the pear-shaped silver pot, and the tiny lamp beneath that kept the tea warm. They'd never been served from silver before, and knew that old Cousin Edward was a man of substance to warrant Jeremiah Goodwin's silver service. Stephen's eyes moved, and stayed on the girl as she placed blue and white cups and saucers around the table.

      "This china ware comes as ballast in the ships."

      The English cousin spoke to the boys.

      "Tea shipments are too light."

      The girl put down a pewter bowl piled with chunks of sugar and a small, earthenware pitcher of cream.

      The ancient cavalier held a lump of sugar in a spoon, watching it absorb the tea and dissolve.

      "This is my first visit to the Virginia colony," he said. "Norfolk is a bustling little frontier port, I see," he said.

      "Frontier?" was the defensive question in the minds of the local Williamses.

      "It's growing very quickly, Cousin," Joseph said. "I'm proud to say that some of our timbers are in this very building. Growing very quickly, yes. Lots of mouths to feed."

      Joseph knew this was the time to speak. Tomorrow, Edward Williams sailed for Bristol.

      "That's why I'm determined to construct a mill!"

      Joseph leaned forward and rushed on.

      "I could feed the county with the corn I'd grind in a tidal mill. And we're at the head of the creek, where the timber meets the water. Richard could run a sash saw with the wheel. We'd clapboard the county!"

      Joseph stopped himself. He was almost across the table, staring into the face of the old man. James and Richard looked to each other. Stephen looked at his father. He'd never seen his father so excited before.

      "My cousin Richard did well in coming to America," Edward said, daintily stirring sugar into his tea, then pouring a stream of heavy cream on top.

      "We are all proud of what our father did, and hope to build on what he left us," Joseph said, and leaned back into his chair.

      "Left your mother with a hefty debt, I'm told. And that's what drove her to the Quaker heresy? To save your birthrights, you say? The Biggses had been Godfearing folks in Kent. It pleased my father to hear of the union of Richard with that family. Before John Biggs turned Quaker, of course."

      "Our mother is a pious believer, Cousin. She has redeemed herself from any unbecoming associations," Richard said.

      Stephen took his eyes from the serving girl to look more closely at the old man. His relative lifted his cup to his nose, eyes closed, to sample the aroma of the steaming liquid. He placed it back on the saucer.

      "She's an honest woman, she is," Richard said with rising heat.

      "She taught us to pay our debts," Joseph added, thinking of her most unnecessary act of repaying a debt caused by her husband's counterfeiting.

      "Grandmother Fewox has friends in the best homes of Virginia and Carolina," James said. He was the favorite grandchild, and this old man from England would not speak ill of her!

      "Son," Joseph said, "Cousin Edward meant no disrespect to your grandmother. Norfolk County is not the world, you know. It is
we
who are not so mindful of the limits of respectability. We live amongst Quakers. Due to our long and forced proximity to dissenters, we sometimes forget that association might cast an unfavorable light on
us."

      "Exactly, Cousin. An unfortunate reflection, that's all," the old man said. "And, amongst us, I've never met a dishonest Quaker. I'll give them that—for what it's worth, weighed against their arrogance and blasphemy."

      Edward removed the excess snuff from his nose with a tiny, silver spoon.

      "Appearance matters more than reality in many things," Richard said.

      "And money can buy appearance," Joseph added.

      Edward Williams sipped his tea, gave a grunt of disgust, then turned in his seat and spat his tea on the floor.

      "Wench!"

      The frightened girl hurried to their table, spilling coffee onto her apron.

      "What is this slop you've poured into my cup, Miss Betty? I asked for Black Dust! I wanted tea! What is
this
black dust, cinders?"

      The men in the room were listening, waiting for the girl to call for Goodwin. She straightened and spoke.

      "I don't know, Sir. It's the Black Dust what you sold my master, Sir," she said.

      The men's laughter drowned out all outside sounds.

      Edward Williams would not be laughed at.

      "Then it's you who don't know how to prepare it! You colonists attempt to rise above yourselves when you approach the gracious aspects of life," he replied aloud.

      Some of the sailors, and two gentlemen, laughed. Other men rose up in anger. Willie Goodwin hurried into the room, wiping his hands on his shirt.

      "Gentlemen, please! Mr. Williams, is there a problem?"

      "Goodwin, if you'd spend less time peppering Miss Betty, here, and more time teaching the slut the arts of tea preparation, the customers would not be forced to riot!"

      "The tea is not to your satisfaction, Sir?"

      "The drink bears no resemblance to tea! The wench has destroyed the fine product I delivered to you. Bring me and my guests coffee. And would you please be so kind as to prepare it yourself?"

      "He don't let me fix it," the girl mumbled.

      "Oh? Then, my apologies, Sir. But for God's sake, let the girl make the coffee," Edward said.

      The men laughed again, and those who'd stood sat back down.

      Joseph was agitated. He wanted to talk about the mill!

      "I hope you took no offense, Cousins. I've found such ignorance among many of the colonists," Edward said.

      "We must assume so, Cousin." Joseph leaned back on the table. "But we Virginians are humble in our ignorance, and are dependent on friends back home in England to speed our growth towards knowledge in all spheres."

      "With what benefit to your friends in Bristol?" Edward asked. He leaned forward in his chair, smiling.

      Stephen knew that the bargaining had begun. Grandmother Bourne always said the Williamses were "thick as thieves."

A cold April breeze blew from the north. Stephen stopped in his work and stood upright, letting the short-handled, hoe-shaped broadax serve as a prop. He turned to face the moving air, closed his eyes and let the air chill his sweating, bare chest. Maybe a traveling female would see him from the Great Bridge road. Her horse would stumble and he'd run to catch her….

      He lifted the heavy broadax and felt the muscles in his arm tighten and swell. He smiled at himself. He was the tallest, strongest and most handsome of his age group. In three months he'd be a tithable and in the militia. He wasn't the best shot, and he was having trouble learning the march commands as he watched James drill, but he could pin any of his peers in a wrestling match. He'd seen girls—and some women—watching him. It was time he had a woman. He was old enough.

      In frustration, Stephen opened his eyes and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He stepped away from the long framing timber he was dressing, and stepped into the shadows. He took off his cocked hat and fanned his neck as he lifted his blond hair by the cord that bound it in the back. Stephen's hair had never turned black like the rest of the family's, it remained a dark blond that his Grandmother Bourne claimed he'd inherited from her. He looked around the busy yard and went back to work.

      Hardware for the mill would be arriving in the summer, and much was left to be done. Stephen's father, Uncle Richard, and brother had gone up the James, the Rappahannock, and the York to visit and examine mills. Stephen was left at home, under the supervision of his Great-uncle Thomas Biggs, to help prepare timbers for the more skilled workers to drill and chisel mortise and tenon joints. Stephen had wanted to go along and James hadn't, but his father had insisted that the oldest son and heir be a part of the mill from its beginning. Stephen didn't care about the mill, but stories that came back with Governor Spotswood's return from exploring the Appalachian Mountains made him curious about places that were different.